


Young Avengers:The Hero Initiative

by Godofthunder97 (GOT)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Focuses on The Avengers But Will Have Guest Characters, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 09:47:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5962870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GOT/pseuds/Godofthunder97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reboot of Highschool Initiative: Year One. A seventeen year old Steve Rogers has no memory after being frozen for an unknown period of time, matters get even more confusing when he's tasked with leading a team of teen superheroes. Because apparently he's Captain America. Whatever that means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like A Phoenix

** October 16, 2012 **

"It's a lovely fall afternoon here in New York City. So far the weather has stayed fairly warm throughout this still young new season. And with Halloween soon approaching the community is gearing up for a number of spooky festivities. The headlining event this year will be young Johnny Blaze's performance in…"

The TV screen fell silent as the phrase "BREAKING NEWS" flashed across in bright red and white letters.

"We interrupt this regularly scheduled program with the news of an escalating and dangerous development. About an hour ago the NYPD responded to a robbery in progress. What they didn't expect to find was powerful enhanced individual dressed in green armor."

A picture of the assailant became displayed in the top right corner of the screen. The most defining characteristic of the suspect was his cone-like emerald helmet that hearkened back to the knights of medieval times.

The name Whirlwind sat beneath the picture.

"The enhanced, coined Whirlwind by the media, has been wanted in connection for several high scale burglaries committed in the past few weeks. "

The TV shifts to a live feed taken by a news helicopter which showed Whirlwind spinning through the streets of Manhattan in the form of a mini green tornado.

"Authorities are advising the public to stay indoors until this situation is resolved."

The camera suddenly shakes uncontrollably as a flash of gold and red is seen shooting right past it, causing it to seize as if it was reporting an earthquake.

"What the hell!?" The camera man screamed.

"Was that Iron Man?"

* * *

The armored mechanized hero boosted through the air and shifted his shoulders slightly to the side in order to initiate a barrel roll. He then used that momentum to lower himself closer to building level atmosphere. The face behind the helmet used his visor screen to search for Whirlwind.

"Alright Jarvis buddy, show me where our Beyblade wannabe friend is."

"Right away, sir."

A red and orange targeting circle zoomed about his HUD until it finally settled on the street just ahead of him.

"Oh I found a stupid villain and a-bingo was his name-o," Iron Man sang to himself.

"Stark! Do you have eyes on him?" An authoritative wind rushed voice chimed into his helmet's speakers.

"I just found him, boy scout. He's really not all that hard to find. All you gotta do is follow the trail of damaged cars."

"We're on our way."

"Yay. I'll set the party favors out."

Iron Man nosedived towards the ground and set his shoulder and thigh repulsors to straighten himself to make sure he would land upright and on his feet. His crimson boots skidded across the tarmac once he touched ground and planted his heels to stop himself. Once he was completely still he raised his right glove repulsor and waited for Whirlwind.

It didn't take long for the charging tornado to reach him, when he got closer Iron Man noticed that only the bottom half of Whirlwind's body was engulfed in the ripping shards of air leaving his torso and everything above visible and vulnerable.

The hero was just about to fire when his target picked up speed and barreled right through him before he had any chance to even react. The powerful snaps of wind launched Iron Man onto the side of the street and into a mailbox.

"Damn it," He growled, lightly rubbing the side of his head gear. "Whirlwind got past me."

"Fret not my comrade." A smooth older voice spoke through the comm in Old English.

"Great…" Iron Man groaned since he knew exactly who the voice's owner was.

* * *

Whirlwind couldn't help but laugh to himself as he charged through the streets and created all sorts of debris. Granted all he was really destroying were empty cars, stationary signs, and fire hydrants.

But a rush was a rush.

He was almost near the city limits when a large projectile came out of nowhere and penetrated Whirlwind's wind barrier, smacking right into his padded chest like a freight impact knocked him off his feet and flat onto his back, the temporary lapse in concentration caused his powers to "shut off" for a moment.

Whirlwind weakly moaned in pain, blue and purple spots filling his vision. Steel boots thumped onto the street. Whirlwind gingerly lifted his head up to investigate and saw a strange sight to say the least, even by New York standards.

A tall warrior with flowing blonde hair that was contained by a winged helmet that did just enough to shroud his face. A dark red cape completed his outfit and in his right hand was a giant square hammer. Most likely the thing that rammed into Whirlwind just a moment ago.

Weird.

"You have caused much mischief today but now you face the mighty Thor, son of Odin."

Whirlwind slowly ambled to his feet and blinked his eyes a few times.

"What is the circus in town or something?" The thug yelled with a raspy voice.

"From what I see before me it does not appear as if you should be throwing stones," Thor challenged as he lazily spun his hammer Mjolnir at his side.

Whirlwind was about to bite back with retort when the sound of a roaring engine seemed to get closer and closer to their seemed to recognize it because he wore a tiny smirk once he heard it.

A motorcycle soon zipped over the horizon, the rider turned it to the right to make it lean so he could slow down. This caused it to stop right next to Thor.

The rider stepped off the bike and grabbed the large circular shield off his back. The red,white, and blue design was an obvious homage to the American flag. The star in the center matched the emblem in the middle of his dark blue spandex suit.

"I miss anything?" Captain America asked Thor.

"Nothing of importance. He is rather puny up close."

"What!" Whirlwind exclaimed.

"Well the raspy voice is kinda cool I guess."

"Don't patronize the super villain, Hawkeye."

"You just hate seeing me have any fun don't ya Widow."

"What?" Whirlwind whipped around quickly after he heard two new voices enter the fray. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a boy and a girl appeared out of nowhere. The boy was clad in a sleeveless purple and black leather vest and pants with matching violet shades. And the girl had fierce red hair that went a little above her shoulders and was wearing a black catsuit.

He had a bow resting on his shoulder and she wore gauntlets that looked not unlike projectile launchers.

"Of all the days…"

He turned around to see Thor and Captain America raising their weapons at him. He looked back at Hawkeye and Black Widow and they were doing the same.

"Fine,"Whirlwind growled as he focused energy to his hands, wind started to generate. "I'll take you all on!"

Blast

An orange beam fired into Whirlwind's covered back. The tiny shock wave blasted him face first into the ground and knocked him out cold.

"Ughh…"

Iron Man gingerly walked up to the other heroes and lowered his still smoking glove to his side.

"He really does look stupid from this angle."

"Looks like he was competent enough to get past you," Black Widow deadpanned with a smirk.

"You know Romanoff I can't tell if you're trying to insult me or make me feel better."

"I wouldn't bet on the latter," Hawkeye said.

Thor came up behind Iron Man and clasped him on his metal alloy shoulder lightly. Well lightly for Thor. His Asgardian strength of course carried enough power with it to cause the boy in the hi-tech suit to flinch.

"It was a valiant effort friend, I am sure that with enough practice one day you will be able to slay a beast of this Whirlwind's caliber." Thor said in an honest attempt to inspire.

Although he couldn't understand why the other mortals were laughing.

Iron Man just stared at him with his mask plate covering his face so nobody could actually see what his expression was.

A healthy guess would be that it was nothing nice.

"...I stopped an influential terrorist ring once you know?"

"Oh go we're not diving into this discussion now are we?" Hawkeye complained.

"I can regale you with the tale of how Baldur and I stormed the gates of Sirta." Thor offered earnestly.

"I'd rather hear one of Banner's stories," Tony remarked.

Widow watched the boys begin to measure who was the bigger hero historically with a blank and definitely uninterested stare. Her green irises darted over to their Captain who looked like he wanted nothing to do with the conversation, only for entirely different reasons than her own.

She was about to walk over to him when a calm older voice came in through their comms.

"Avengers, what's your status?"

Cap quickly shook off his melancholic demeanor and brought his finger up his right ear.

"Whiplash is down, Coulson."

"Good. I'll send a clean up crew for him."

What felt like only a few seconds later a black van pulled up seemingly out of nowhere and six agents of S.H.I.E.L.D piled out of it.

"Wow, I wish Amazon would deliver my packages that fast," Tony mused.

The agents wasted no time in hoisting the limp Whirlwind onto a stretcher and hauled him into the back of the van.

The Avengers had already moved out of their way and pooled together on the closest sidewalk.

"Why bother checking in if you were watching the whole time?" Cap wryly asked Coulson.

"Company policy."

Widow shrugged when Cap directed bright blue questioning orbs at her.

"We'll debrief later," Coulson ordered. "Right now you should start heading back so you don't miss sixth period."

The Avengers sans Iron Man all began to casually stroll off one by one to begin their walk back. In the very front Thor scratched the side of his neck as he kept pace with Steve. Behind them Widow rested her hands on her hips while Hawkeye rested his arms behind his neck, elbows pointing East and West.

Iron Man stayed back by the scene of the battle for a little bit longer. He threw his shell-head up towards the sky and moaned.

"I hate high school."

* * *

** October 16,2012-Midtown High(20 min later) **

Dr. Hank Pym's Physics class was a larger room than most in terms of space due to the need for large lab tables and equipment. The walls were a calming light green that bordered on lime.

Even with all that room the class was still pretty cramped. Although he would never admit it, the biggest reason for this was the older man's popularity amongst the students.

There were a variety of factors that made this true with some of them being his kind demeanor, sharp wit, and most importantly his mentor ship skills.

In fact there were only three empty seats around and that was just because the students that usually occupied them hadn't arrived yet.

"So Liz, how'd your date with Flash go?"

Liz Allan, a sophomore, smiled at her best friend Glory Grant who was a beautiful dark girl that like her was a cheerleader.

"It was nice."

"Nice? That's all? Don't hold out on us now Lizzy"

Their teammate Sally Avril aggressively cut into the conversation from her seat next to Glory.

"It went fine Sally, there's really nothing more to say about it," Liz said beginning to grow slightly annoyed with her blonde friend.

"Easy girls, no need to fight," Glory quickly interjected. "Why don't we talk about something else?"

Sally tapped her chin thoughtfully with her pointer finger.

"Hmm… Have you seen that new third year student?"

"The tall blonde muscle hunk with the blue eyes?" Glory attempted to confirm.

"Uh huh."

"I heard his name's Steve Rogers," Liz casually offered.

"You would know that, Liz." Glory teased causing the girl in question's eyes to widen.

"What's that supposed to mean!?"

"Come on girl, you have a type."

" I do not."

"You so do."

"I don't know Glor," Sally teased. "She does talk to that Parker twerp a lot."

"That doesn't mean anything," Liz quickly sputtered. "Peter's just my math tutor who happens to be a really sweet guy."

"Whatever," Glory droned. "But this Rogers guy sure is interesting, even if he is pretty quiet."

"Have you seen the people he's been hanging out with?" Sally asked. Both girls shook their heads.

"Well not only have I seen him chumming around with that other hunk Donald Blake, but guess who else."

"Who?" The two girls nearly hooted.

"Tony Stark."

"No way," Glory exclaimed.

"Uh huh. I heard they're all part of some Youth Leadership program."

"Wow. The new guy knows how to get around."

"I heard he's single too. But the thing is he's always with that red-head."

"Who? Pepper Potts?" Liz asked.

"No that other girl, what's her name… Tiffany?"

"You mean Natalie." Glory corrected.

"That's the one." Sally snapped her fingers

"She's pretty," Liz mentioned absentmindedly. "Kind of scary though."

"You've got that right…"

The classroom door opened silently but heavy footfalls diverted every student to direct attention it's direction.

A tall well built teen with dirty blonde hair and cobalt blue eyes stepped through and froze when he saw everyone looking at him.

Steve Rogers was dressed in a navy blue jacket over a white t-shirt and dark tan khakis. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck until soft hands pushed him forward.

Natalie Rushman could hardly be seen behind his large frame but once she came into view all eyes could see her glaring daggers up at Steve. She was dressed in a stylish black hoodie over a red top and black tights. Her wavy red hair was cropped just above the bottom of her neck.

After another shove from her the two walked over to the only table with empty seats at the back of the room. They were followed by a boy the same height as Steve. He wore a red and black flannel shirt, dark wrangler jeans and rounded it out with flowing gold hair.

Sally, Glory, and Liz watched them breathlessly until a bone chilling look sent their way from Nat caused them to quickly avert their gazes.

Steve was the first to reach the table, he pulled out the second chair in and greeted the younger boy sitting at the end.

"Banner."

"Steve."

Bruce Banner was a 15 year old genius with scruffy black hair. His intelligence made it so he could be a junior in high school a year early. He would probably be even further along if it wasn't for a string of strange unexplained absences.

The short tan boy shook a little bit when he felt a firm hand grip his shoulder. He looked up quickly but settled down once he saw who it was.

"Oh hey Thor… I mean Donald. Hey Donald." He covered awkwardly.

Nonetheless Donald Blake/Thor beamed down at Bruce with a toothy grin and sat down in the seat between Steve and Bruce while Nat sat in the last chair to the left of Steve.

Nat flipped the back left side of her hair with her hand and grabbed the physics textbook out of her bag. The corner of her right eye perked over to the boy sitting next to her. Steve's head was cast slightly downward, the windows to his head calm but pained. She also noted that he was twiddling his thumbs, probably absentmindedly.

"You ok?"

"Huh?" Steve straightened up to look at her, his chin and mouth a dull curve and his eyes held the same strained emotion. Nat had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at him right then and there. She knew how hard all of this was for him still but that didn't do much to calm her.

The slight puffing of her right cheek was a covert warning that she wouldn't stand for any nonsense from him.

"Don't think I didn't notice how withdrawn you became after Tony and Donald started strolling down memory lane." She challenged. His mouth morphed into a sad but knowing smile as he looked back down at his portion of the table.

"I told you to come talk to me if you started struggling with 'it'" She reminded him harshly.

"Yeah, you did," He said quietly but not timidly. His voice did hold strength and backbone to it, he wasn't shrinking like a child caught doing something wrong. He was merely being honest.

"I just didn't know what to say. Still don't."

Nat stated at Steve silently for a few breathes, her icy facial facade still impregnable. She wanted to scold him further but suddenly "lost" the energy to do so.

"Well I can't help you with that." She stated bluntly as she faced forward.

"... But keep trying," She quietly added.

Steve turned to sneak a look at her but turned forward as well when all he saw was her usual blank slate. What he didn't know was that Nat did her own undercover glancing once he looked away.

She unapologetically stared at his features though not for the reasons most of her classmates would have assumed. She wasn't looking at him necessarily, rather she was looking for something. Something that wasn't there.

Everybody in the room began to quiet as cleared his throat to begin that afternoon's lecture.

Nat would let the issue between Steve and her drop for now, but their conversation was far from over.

It wasn't even close.

* * *

** October 16,2012-Midtown High(After school) **

_"All you women, who want a man of the street…"_

Tony Stark rocked his legs back and forth over the hood of his ruby red sports car, it's expensive speakers blasting the beginning to AC/DC's Shoot to Thrill. The school parking lot was bustling with students getting into their cars and leaving to either go home or go somewhere else.

And every fiber in Tony's being wanted to do the very same and get the hell out of dodge… But he knew that there were a bunch of lunatics that wouldn't let him.

Through the pink tint of his red lens shades he picked through the crowd for one of them, odds were he would find either arrow boy or the psycho Russian.

_"Cause I shoot to thrill and I'm ready to kill…"_

A boy with short brown hair that was about Tony's height walked up to the sports car. He wore a black jacket over a dark grey shirt and black jeans.

Archery boy it is.

"Barton," Tony greeted when he got close and turned his head when Clint nodded back. Clint stared at the young heir with an arched eyebrow as Tony stared into the distance.

"Got any plans tonight Stark?"

Tony kept on swinging his legs.

"I don't like making plans. Too time consuming."

Clint kept his expression at base level of blankness but on the inside he was highly amused.

"Keep it that way. Coulson wants you to stay for dinner."

Tony rolled his eyes and dropped down from the top of his car.

"If this is just another attempt to get me to take up permanent residency at your little clubhouse, tell him to save his breath. The answer's still no."

"It's not about that," Clint interrupted. "Be there in half an hour." He said sharply and walked away. Tony's shades had fallen to the bridge of his nose, the bored smirk at the corner of his lips now rotting into a scowl.

"I'm not gonna go it Barton! I'm a big boy now!"

"Half an hour!" Clint yelled over his shoulder.

Tony threw his hands up into the air and rolled his eyes up his eyelids as he could, his mouth slack jawed in disgust. All he wanted to do his junior year was slack off and maybe be a big damn hero from time to time. How in the hell he got stuck with the super friends he'll never know.

When he finally looked back down he noticed a group of his classmates staring at him. He stared back dumbly until he wordlessly went around and get into his car.

"Guess I'm coming by for dinner."

He shifted the car out of park and re-adjusted his shades as he pulled out the lot.

_"Ready to kiiilllllll"_

* * *

** Miss Lola's Home For Scamps(15 min later) **

"Earlier this afternoon the enhanced criminal Whirlwind was apprehended by authorities after he destroyed several blocks worth of public property with no casualties."

Melinda May stared up at the kitchen's television with the remote resting in her hand.

"But was the police responsible for his arrest?" The newscaster with the bad hair questioned. "Right before the reported time of apprehension our news camera caught a glimpse of the superhero Iron Man arriving on the scene."

The screen replayed the footage of Iron Man shaking the camera as he zoomed by.

"This is not the first time in recent memory that a so called hero has been caught on camera."

"Who could forget the destruction caused just a couple of weeks ago that has since been dubbed The Hulk Incident…."

Melinda clicked the small black box on top of the fridge off and brought the remote up to her chin.

The kids were getting sloppy. So far they had been lucky enough to avoid getting caught in the same place at the same time. But that was unlikely to last.

The best the two of them could do was prepare them for the consequences that would follow when it did happen.

"We need to talk to Stark," She said craning her neck towards the man standing by the small homely stove.

"I told Clint to invite him to dinner," Coulson blandly assured her as he basted the ham he was about to roast.

"He's too cocky. We need to rein him in."

"We can sternly discuss it with him over dinner," He said with the tone of a complacent parent as he measured out a cup of water, squinting his eyes to make sure he was hitting the tick mark exactly.

Melinda raised a maternal eyebrow at her co-worker. Damn it, she had been spending to much time with these kids.

"You're going to easy on them."

"It hasn't even been a month, May. I'm just giving them time to adjust." He countered as he bent down to place their dinner into the oven.

Melinda shook her head and leaned back against the counter.

"They're too powerful," She said to nobody in particular.

"They're kids. It takes patience to raise a village."

Melinda eyed him for a second, she wasn't surprised with what she found in the slightest. "You're enjoying this too much," She chastised with an eye roll.

"Well what can I say," Coulson smiled while he wiped his hands on the apron he was wearing.

"A part of me always wanted to play mother hen."

* * *

"Alright kiddies, everybody out."

"Clint you're only a year older than us."

"And what a glorious year it was."

Steve, Thor, and Bruce got out of Clint's truck as he and Nat began to go back and forth with each other. In front of them was a tall, skinny, house that had come out of nowhere and became their collected living space only a half month ago.

Miss Lola's House For Scamps.

The maroon and tan bricks gave the building an old fashioned charm, even though it was nearly identical to surrounding buildings it just oozed its own unique homeliness. At least in Steve's opinion.

"Come on let's go," Clint urged as he quickly walked past the three.

"Coulson's making ham."

The group scaled the low set of steps that lead up to a dark green front door. Steve took a moment before they reached the porch to appreciate the potted plants resting on it's banister.

"We're back!" Clint shouted after he opened the door and held it open for his friends to step through. The quiet clicking of flats echoed as Melinda was seen walking out of the kitchen. She was dressed in a pleasant deep violet long sleeve top that perpetuated a maternal like aura.

Though no one ever had the courage to mention it.

"Welcome home everyone," She greeted making sure to give each of them their own welcoming look. However her face quickly drooped down into a frown when she noticed that there were only five young adults before her.

"Where's Stark?"

The different reactions from the Avengers proved the amount of individual experience of dealing with Melinda May each one of them had. Steve, Bruce, and Thor visibly shrunk into themselves from sheer intimidation. Nat never made an attempt to even look remotely interested in what was going on. And Clint was putting all his charm into a small devilish smile.

"He'll be here soon."

"Hmm."

Melinda was getting tired of having to cock her eyebrows at the men living under this roof. But she already knew it was going to likely become a regular exercise.

"Take off your shoes and settle in. Dinner will be ready shortly."

The Avengers grouped together at the front door as she walked back into the kitchen.

"We might as well sit down at the dinner table," Nat suggested. "Coulson loves dining timeliness."

Clint shrugged but still followed their only female member into the dining area, Thor quickly did the same as he mumbled something about how his stomach deserved a reward after the day they had. Bruce and Steve watched them go but were in no particular rush to join them.

The foyer of the house was the picture of high quality humble suburban living. Old chandeliers lined a path across the ceiling and below them rested mahogany wood floors. To the left was an archway that peeked into their modest living room, and to the right was a diagonal staircase that went up to the second floor.

Straight away from where the two Avengers stood was a hallway that led to the kitchen and dining room.

"Are you used to it yet?"

Steve had to crane his neck down to look at Bruce who was observing the more muscular teen with an expression that was somehow both curious and knowing. He did the same to their youngest member for a moment before he cracked a tiny smile.

"No. How about you?"

"No," Bruce admitted a little bashfully. "But it's better than where I was."

Steve nodded somberly trying his best to sympathize with his teammate, but despite his best intentions he couldn't stop his shining eyes from darkening. Bruce immediately recognize the cause behind the shift and tapped Steve's arm lightly.

"You'll find your answers."

Steve chuckled without even moving his chin but his eyes did clear like the sky they resembled.

"So will you."

Their quiet moment was broken by the crack made by somebody opening the front door. They both turned around to see Tony causally entering the house, trademark shades over his eyes and a brown paper bag in his hand. He stopped and stared at the two once he noticed them.

They stared back.

"I brought bagels," He announced, holding up the bag.

Bruce offered Tony a "good job" smile that wasn't entirely authentic. Steve, still not used to their most eccentric club member only crinkled his brows in question.

"You know you usually bring bagels for breakfast, not dinner," Bruce educated Tony who merely returned it with a dumb gaze.

"Yeah well, breakfast/dinner, tomato/Toma-to."

Steve was about to ask each man a question when Coulson's voice rang through the house.

"Dinner's ready!"

* * *

The Avengers and Melinda had all gathered around the long table in the eating area. On one side sat Nat, Clint, and Steve while Thor, Tony, and Bruce sat opposite them. Melinda was camped at the end of the table leaving the head of it vacant for the chef.

Coulson walked in, apron and all, carrying with him a mouth watering and glistening ham. He carefully maneuvered it onto the landing pad that rested in the middle of the expansive white table cloth. He wasted no time in cutting off some slices to make it easier for everyone to grab their portions.

"Eat up."

Within seconds every plate became covered in glaze pork and creamy mashed potatoes that Melinda had made.

"Natasha, Maria Hill wanted me to tell you that the boys in R&D developed an upgrade for your stingers," Melinda told Natasha as she passed the bowl of potatoes over to Steve.

"Hmm."

Coulson watched his flock descend on the meal he slaved over with a smile, though he did cock his head to the side a little bit when he saw Tony's bag of bagels resting by his plate.

"So nice of you to bring a side dish, Tony."

The boy with spiky black hair looked up from his plate with cheeks already stuffed to the brim with food. When it actually registered with him what it was that Coulson said he gulped down everything in his mouth and grinned from ear to ear.

"Well I'm nothing if not a gracious guest." Tony bragged without noticing the way that Bruce, Steve, Natasha, and Clint collectively shook their heads at his inability to recognize veiled sarcasm.

Then again he wasn't the only one.

"That's the spirit Stark!" Thor bellowed as he hammered his fist down onto the table in celebration. Though his shoulders shrunk ever so slightly when Melinda glared at him for potentially damaging their furniture.

"A feast such as this should be celebrated, Son of Coul." Thor praised, already halfway through his second plate.

"Thank you Thor."

The whole table fell into a comfortable silence as they appreciated the well designed meal. After everybody finished Steve and Natasha helped Coulson load all the dirty dishes into the dishwasher while everyone else relaxed in the living room.

Coulson was busy loading the machine up when he felt somebody glare a hole into the back of his neck. When he moved to investigate the source he was met with Natasha offering him a dirty plate. The thing was her eyes were sending him a message she apparently had no wish to verbalize.

Do something about him.

Coulson crinkled his older eyes at her.

Who?

She nodded her head towards the boy collecting silverware off the table.

Steve. He's moping about his memory again.

Phil's eyes softened but the rest of his expression stayed firm and authoritative.

We can't force him to talk if he doesn't want to.

She already knew what was going to follow and she wanted no part of it.

Give him time.

The look of pure teenage disgust she gave him would have made him laugh out loud if he didn't know how murderous she could and would be, so he decided to take the smart approach which entailed walking right past her and Steve and into the living room.

And he could only hope that she wouldn't a knife into his back. She wouldn't kill him of course, at most she would really mess up his shoulder. He knew Clint had some scars that would back up his claim.

Coulson cleared his throat once he stepped into the living room, Steve and Natasha only a few steps behind him.

Melinda and Bruce sat on a short green couch while Tony lounged in the adjacent love seat. Finally Thor and Clint were standing by the fireplace.

"Alright," Coulson commanded once he had everyone's attention.

"Get in the basement people."

* * *

Officially the house did not have a basement. There were no visible doors leading to a lower level inside or outside the building. If anybody looked all that they would find would be a foundation of bricks.

Nobody would notice the loose brick hidden right next to fireplace. Nobody would feel the urge to pull said brick down like it was a lever. And nobody would ever see the entire fireplace swing open like a door to reveal a metallic elevator large enough to hold nearly 8 people.

Nobody would ever think to hop into the contraption and ride down to the building's totally existent building.

Nobody would know how good at his job Phil Coulson was.

In the middle of the unfathomably spacious subterranean room filled with a set of expensive looking computers, workout areas, archery ranges and other Avenger related equipment pieces sat a large conference style table.

The Avengers sat in the same design they were grouped in when they ate dinner except this time Coulson and Melinda were both standing at the head of the table.

"First of all I want to congratulate you all on a job well done today against Whirlwind," Coulson declared as he began their official debriefing.

"You were able to complete the mission nearly without mishap."

"Nearly." Melinda parroted in a much sharper and deliberate tone. The two adults wasted no time in turning their gazes to Tony, who up to that point was barely paying attention.

The other Avengers quickly picked up on why they were really assembled down there and all looked at Tony as well.

Bruce's look was knowing but almost wistful, Steve and Natasha's were completely serious and in Natasha's case specifically deadly. Thor looked on with an almost impish curiosity, as if he was legitimately interested in what was going to happen next. Clint was doing a pretty good job of masking his amusement.

Tony finally looked up from his phone and froze when he saw multiple eyes trained on him, his right eyebrow doing what every eyebrow seemed to do in that household.

"Not that I'm opposed to all you guys gazing at and admiring my beauty, because really I'm not, but with that in mind I would like to know why you're doing it. Now mind you the answer that it's because I am anatomically irresistible is totally acceptable.

Coulson was glad that he had Melinda with him because that meant that she could do all the spooky bone chilling death stares. All that left him was the role of pointing a remote at the larger computer screen and pressing a button.

The "kids" all turned their heads to the screen that began to play footage of Iron Man zooming past the helicopter camera.

"Aw, they barely got my good side."

"You're lucky that's all they caught," Melinda warned.

"We told you all from the start that you had to be careful when you're out in the open." She directed towards the whole gang.

"Hey at least I didn't flash my face at the camera, right?" Tony unsuccessfully attempted to bring levity to the situation.

"With your reckless behavior it's only a matter of time before you do."

"Probably," Tony admitted lazily. "But is that really such a bad thing?"

Everyone else either groaned or shook their heads but Tony stood firm. In a surprising display of passion the teen sat up straight and put his phone down.

"No, seriously. What is so damn terrible about people knowing exactly who it is that's protecting him."

This time the room fell pretty silent, which was frightening considering who the occupants were.

"And what about your protection?" Coulson countered. "Or that of your classmates for that matter. It doesn't take much imagination to consider a villain going as far as bombing Tony Stark's classroom just because everyone knows he's Iron Man."

For once in his life the young Stark didn't have a snappy and entertaining comeback. All the lad could do was sink back into his seat and glare at Coulson, the emotion behind it betraying a troubled past.

Coulson calmly kept his usual demeanor while Melinda kept shooting daggers at the Iron teen. Nobody else felt the need to speak up.

* * *

Natasha walked up the stairs with her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, her black boots gracefully lifting and falling. The beautiful scarlet girl glanced at the clock hanging on the wall as she ascended to the next level of her home.

10:15 p.m.

Tony had left almost as soon as Coulson ended their debriefing. He practically rushed out the door with his shades covering his eyes, all the while saying something about having cars to drive and girls to see.

Natasha herself got out for some air shortly after. How she ended up walking around New York for five hours she couldn't say, not that she would have any reason to worry in the first place.

"Welcome back, Lady Natasha."

She looked up to see Thor leaning over the banister by his forearms. He welcomed her with a small grin that just teased his pearly whites, the big man's eyes were noticeably tired.

"Hey there Thor."

"I trust that your journey was pleasant," He half inquired as she got to the top of the staircase.

"It was nice and boring," Natasha answered as she strolled past him.

The hallway on that floor was sparsely lit compared to how it was ground level. Some of the light from the chandeliers did leak over but for the most part that section of the house was mostly enveloped in the warm orange of the Avengers' bedroom lamps.

There were nine rooms in total. The two at the very end belonged to Coulson and Melinda respectively. To the right of Coulson's room was one that had a door labeled "Stark", though the boy never stayed nights. The door next to Melinda's led to an empty room with a bed they reserved for guests.

The three rooms next to Tony's belonged to Thor, Steve, and Bruce in that exact order while the one next to the guest room was her's. Natasha saw Bruce laying on his bed with his noise cancelling headphones on, the barely teen happily lost in another world.

She stopped at her door and turned to Steve's, Natasha saw the fit young man doing one armed push-ups on the ground. He had seemed to have changed into a soft grey shirt and matching sweatpants.

Natasha could see the sweat dripping down the back of his neck, every droplet humming with every fiery grunt that came after a completed motion. She leaned back against the frame of her door and casually rested her well manicured nails on her biceps.

And despite her best efforts an apparition of a smile adorned her attractive features.

"If you like the view so much then take a picture, it'll last longer."

She didn't need to move to know that Clint was leaning against the frame of his door that was next to hers. It didn't take long for that smile of hers to sour.

"I don't know what I would do without your amazing humour, Clint."

"You'd still be stalking Rogers with your eyes like you are now," He deadpanned causing her to roll her eyes.

"I'm a spy, it's not stalling it's called doing my job."

Clint mumbled a chuckle and moved in to basically stand next to her and watch Steve.

"You know there's nothing wrong with being concerned for a friend," He said with a weird warmth in his voice.

She still didn't look at him.

"I know you're gonna hate this." He said after they watched in silence for few seconds.

"Then don't say it."

"But you really should give the guy a break. It's only been two weeks since we thawed him out."

"I know that."

"I know you do. I also know that he has absolutely no memory of his life before we found him."

"I know that."

"I know you do."

Clint slowly started to walk back to his room but he paused halfway through and looked over his shoulder.

"When it comes down to it he doesn't know who he really is and neither do we."

He put his hands in his pant pockets and started walking.

"It might not be easy to admit that we all need each other right now, but it's the truth."

She didn't watch him retreat to his room.

Natasha never did take her eyes of Steve so she noticed when he had finished his set of push-ups. Now he was rubbing the back of his neck with a short towel.

Eventually his eyes noticed that he had an audience. He offered a boyish smile though he quickly picked himself up and gave it more of a teasing tilt.

She politely returned it but quickly and smoothly entered her room, making sure to close it behind her. Frowning once she was secure in her own space. She wasn't mad at Clint or the things he said, she wasn't even annoyed at Stark for his less than satisfactory behavior.

Steve was the problem. Or rather the problem was what he was missing.

Even the most generous of optimists could deny that their little bundle of heroes was just band of misfit toys. They needed a leader. Somebody who inspired simply by being. Steve was the best candidate, Natasha could see it plainly.

He just couldn't remember that version of himself.

It didn't help matters that nobody else knew where he came from or what he was like before the ice. Technically they didn't even know how old he was, all they could find out from his body scans that he was seventeen when he became frozen.

Who knew how long the cold conditions preserved him.

Natasha didn't like working with impossibly erratic variables. And unfortunately Steve's background was just that. She had a tough job ahead of her, but that never stopped her before.

And it wouldn't now.


	2. Star Awakens Part 1: To The Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fallen star awakens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry I made you guys wait so long for this update. Nonetheless I hope you all enjoy this chap and just as a reminder this chapter takes place two weeks prior to the previous chapter.

** October 2nd, 2012:Unknown Location **

He couldn't see anything, he couldn't hear anything, but he felt…cold.

Everything was numb. His brain seemed empty, as if it contained no memories. Like it had been frozen still for too long of a time.

Where was he? Who was he?

There was part of him somewhere deep down that knew the answer to the latter, but that part felt too far away to reach. Too cold.

Would he ever wake up? Was he even alive?

No. He wasn't dead, at least not yet.

He probably should have been afraid, he should have been frantic. But he wasn't. He was calm. He wasn't afraid of the unknown, even though he wanted to be. Whoever he was, he was too strong to fear death.

...What a weird sensation. He was falling… no he was rising. Somehow he was doing both. Suddenly his vision started to return followed shortly by his hearing.

"Good, you're awake."

Who was that? All he could tell was that a man's voice was speaking to him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Captain Rogers."

The light was blinding, the blurriness and searing glare in his eyes made him wonder if he was going through the Benz.

Well at least the pounding headache meant that he was still a living breathing human and not some object wedged between life and death. The first thing he noticed was how dry his mouth was, the heaviness in his tongue and cheek suggested that he had just awakened from a heavy slumber.

His cerulean eyes fluttered the last vestige of blackness in his vision away. Unfortunately once he did so the room began spinning so he instinctively brought a hand to his forehead.

"Need an aspirin?"

There was that voice again. He tried to propel himself onto his elbows and it was only in doing so that he realized he was laying down on a leather couch. With eyes as wide as a newborn he studied his surroundings. He was in a wood cabin. Who knew where the hell the cabin was on the map.

The stiffness of his upper back prevented him from sitting completely upright so he was forced to lay back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling. After a deep breath he moved his head to the side, pupils dilating once he discovered an average looking middle aged Caucasian man with thinning brown hair sitting in a chair in front of him. His arms lazily wrapped around his own torso.

"What? Don't like aspirin… how about an Advil? Ibuprofen?" The man asked with a hint of mischief hiding in his words.

"Where am I?"

"Somewhere safe." The man answered simply, although it was plain to see that the whole story wasn't being told. "You've been asleep for a long time Captain Rogers."

Captain? That was the second time he had been called that.

"Why do you keep calling me Captain?"

"Because that's your rank."

What a strange answer.

"Who are you?"

"Is that the question you really want to ask?"

He guessed not.

"Fine… Who am I?"

"Your name is Steven Rogers, and as of last July, you are seventeen years old."

Seventeen!? He looked down at his body, that just didn't seem right. He was built like a football player. Plus this guy kept calling him Captain.

"If I'm seventeen then how am I a Captain? What am I a Captain of?"

"You know, now that I think about it… I'm being rather rude here. Hiding my identity from you and everything.

"I'm Phil Coulson, it's a pleasure to meet you Steve."

He was avoiding the question, hell he wasn't even making an effort to do it tactfully either. Still, Steve felt like it would be wrong not to return pleasantries. Maybe it had something to do with Coulson's calm demeanor.

Or maybe it was just a small byproduct of being whoever it was that Steve used to be.

"Good to meet you Phil." He really should have been angry, he should be throwing things and yelling at the top of his lungs. But he wasn't, he felt no need to.

"The truth is Steve we can't the why behind who you are," Coulson trailed off as he stood up and walked out of Steve's line of vision. "All we really know is your name and age."

"And how exactly do you know that?" Steve asked as he slowly lifted his neck off the cushion.

"We found these." Steve nearly jumped off the couch when he felt a pair of metallic objects land on his chest.

It was a pair of dog tags. Most of the information on it was to torn and faded to make out completely. All he could read clearly was the beginning of the listed date of birth; July 4th. A rank; Captain. And a name:

Steven Grant Rogers.

"Would you like something to drink?" Coulson asked from somewhere behind the couch.

Steve's mouth became increasingly more dry as he stared at "his" name. Yet he could only answer with a simple hoarse, "No."

"Suit yourself… How about you Romanoff?"

"I'm fine, don't worry about me."

Steve's eyebrows rose to the ceiling, in fact his head shot up so fast he felt like he pulled something in his neck. After pausing to rub the spot that held the most tension he slowly sat up straight and peered over the back of the couch.

Apparently the cabin had a fully functioning bar at the back end of the room mere inches away from the back end of the couch. Coulson stood behind it and was in the middle of pouring himself a small glass of iced tea.

She sat on one of the bar stools. Her right leg was crossed over her left. Dressed in a black hoodie with matching black pants, a blazing fire sat atop her head. Red locks cascaded down an absolute pearl of a face. Her petite but full lips only gave him a quarter of a smile while emerald eyes taunted him with secrets he never would have even thought to look for.

Peg…

"Steve Rogers, meet Natasha Romanoff."

"Captain," Natasha greeted him with a nod. Her face was, well it was pretty blank for somebody as beautiful as her. She didn't look bored, but she did look guarded.

"Please c-call me Steve. I'm still not used to this whole Captain thing," He said, her attractiveness making him more than a little uncomfortable.

"If that's what you want...Steve." The air of kindness Natasha put into her voice sounded very pleasant, he couldn't deny that. But it just didn't match the calculating nature of her eyes. Steve couldn't know either way if she was being sincere or not, and that was more than a little concerning given his current predicament.

Steve could hear Coulson rustle around for something in the bar, up to that point he had nearly forgotten that the man was even there. "I'm afraid I have somewhere I need to be Steve, fortunately Natasha would be more than happy to watch over you tonight."

Tonight?

There were two things about this announcement. Firstly he wasn't too keen on the insinuation that he was being forced to stay in the cabin overnight. But given the fact he wouldn't know where to go if freed he was willingly to overlook this for now. But the second and probably more important thing he realized was that he was going to be left completely alone with an admittedly breathtaking member of the fairer gender.

"Excuse me?" Was all he was able to squeak out.

"Don't worry," Coulson immediately assured him as he threw a small bag over his shoulder. "It's just for the night. I promise we'll explain everything that we can tomorrow."

Coulson made a move for the front door but slowed down just before he exited to shoot Natasha a look. "Play nice."

The fact that Coulson had to tell her that in the first place gave Steve no comfort. It made him extremely, extremely nervous.

* * *

They spend 3 hours in complete silence. He must have shifted around into every position on the couch imaginable during that time frame but she stayed completely still on her bar stool. There must have been a million times that he wanted to start a conversation, if not to be polite than to just make sure that she was actually human.

No words ever managed to successfully make it out, every time he got close to forming a sentence his mouth would fall dry like it did during his awakening.

He wonders if she likes being mysterious, if she likes playing mind games. Was it all a hobby or just par for the course because of whatever her job was. Of course he could ask her all this, she was right there. But was much more difficult in execution than it was in theory.

He looks at her for what must have been the fifth time that night. He had so many questions that probably weren't appropriate for that moment. What did she enjoy most in life? How did she end up in this situation? How old was she, even?

If he had to guess she was about his age, maybe a year younger. Maybe a year older. So 16 or 18. Maybe 17.

No questions made it out.

Eventually she moved, and to Steve's complete shock she sat down in the chair Coulson had occupied earlier. Placing her right in front of him.

"You know most people would have said something by now," Natasha's tone caught Steve off guard. "Something like a clever quip or an accusation, at the very least a question."

The playfulness in her eyes when she smiled filled him with at least a dozen more questions. But finally some words managed to crawl their way into the light of day.

"I didn't think you guys were in the business of giving answers, so I stopped asking."

Her smile morphed quietly to a demure but vibrant smirk as she dipped her down a little in a nod that signaled the validity of Steve's observation, her dark red bangs clouded her face for a fleeting breath.

"I guess that's fair."

Steve wasn't completely naive, he knew that at the very least Natasha was a part of some group that was at least shady. But her pleasant voice made it easy to let his guard down a little. The thought crossed his mind that this was all done by her own design.

"Still," Natasha seemed to ponder something whilst subtly crossing her ankles. He hated to see it but the inflection of her tone and the mirth in her eyes caused him to think she was slipping into a role. "You've been pretty compliant with all this, I think that warrants something."

"Something?"

"An answer," Natasha amended. "An answer to any question you ask me, be it personal or professional."

Steve wanted to believe she was being straight with him, that she really was the friendly girl she was portraying to him. Unfortunately he had enough sense to be cynical. "You know giving an answer isn't always the same thing as telling the truth."

His statement seemed to impress her because she gave him a steady nod. "This time it will be."

It was a short and simple response. And her use of the phrase "this time" was basically an outright admission that she has/would lie to him. But damn it if he didn't want to trust her this one time.

"Ok," He said simply.

She smiled, he let himself believe it was real.

"Ok," She said simply.

Steve sat back against the couch to collect himself. He would only get to ask one question so he wanted to make it count. Should he ask her if she knew anything about his identity since she promised to be honest? Or should he ask her something about how the world was since he couldn't remember anything.

No, those were all things he could probably find out about somebody else with enough digging. Natasha was offering him one free shot. He could ask her anything. When he looked up at those green irises that he knew were windows to a number of mysteries there was only one question he could ask her.

"When you were a kid… what did you want to be when you grew up?"

Natasha's eyes widened to the point of saucer status and her petite mouth quickly fell agape.

That was not the question she was expecting him to ask, to be fair that was also not the response he had anticipated from her. Steve had expected some calculated answer that she had rehearsed in her head a dozen times over.

Not this.

"That's the question you ask?" She guffawed with sharp incredulity. The blink and you'll miss it quiver of her bottom lip and the way way her entire face blanched really rattled Steve for some reason.

"...Yeah?"

That old on the edge of becoming familiar silence crept in and clouded over the two of them. Maybe he should have asked who had won that year's World Series instead.

"A ballerina."

Steve almost didn't hear her with how lowly she answered him. He was about to nervously ask her if he heard her right when she spoke up again.

"I danced when I was a little girl so I naturally wanted to be a ballerina."

Steve cautiously stared at Natasha with the false and crazy notion that she would break if he looked at her too hard. He knew she wouldn't, but he also hadn't dared to dream that she would give him such a heartfelt answer. Somehow he knew she was telling the truth, even if it was just this once.

"I'm sure you were a great dancer."

She made no move to agree or disagree with him, neither did she thank him. But the small smile that naturally graced her felt like enough for him.

* * *

** October 3rd, 2012: The Cabin **

After Natasha's surprise confession they spent the rest of the night in a more comfortable brand of silence. And when it came time to finally get some rest Steve offered to stay on the couch and allow Natasha to take the bedroom. Not that she needed his permission one way or another.

The next morning she woke him up bright and early at the crisp time of 7:30. But to Steve's own wonderment he didn't feel any worse for wear from his rest being cut short. Sure he felt some heaviness under his eyes, but other than that he felt all right. It almost seemed like his body was used to adapting to different situations.

Nonetheless Steve leaned back against the couch, only mildly rubbing his eyes every now and then, while Natasha stood by the window and spied on the outside world through the blinds.

"They're here," Natasha finally announced after a silent moment. Steve didn't have the energy yet to question who "they" were so he simply peeled himself off the couch and followed Natasha out the front door.

Outside consisted of a never ending sea of trees and a skyline that told Steve their cabin was somewhere in the mountains. Which mountains was a completely different set of questions. Mere inches from the cabin's entrance was a nondescript black sedan that Steve wildly and radically assumed was their ride.

Again, where the ride was to he didn't know.

Once the two got close to the vehicle a man dressed similarly to Natasha stepped out from the passenger's seat and opened the side door for them. Steve instinctively let Natasha enter first and he had to admit the tiny teasing but appreciative smile she gave him was pretty worth it.

The only other person inside the sedan besides the driver and the man in the passenger's seat was boy sitting in the row of seats across from them. He appeared to be pretty close to Steve's age, he had short brown hair with striking blue eyes that also bore similarities to Steve's. The only difference was that the young man's pupils held a dull intensity more in line with Natasha's.

He like the others were dressed in all black, except the collar of his jacket was standing straight up.

"Hmm, you know he's pretty much like I thought he would be."

"Making assumptions based on appearance already, Clint?" Natasha asked him with a little bit of teasing and little bit of warning in her voice as she buckled her seat belt.

"What can I say, I'm a good judge of character," Clint replied simply. He then held his hand out towards Steve. "Name's Clint, and it is my sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"I'm Steve, uh thanks I guess." Steve instinctively shook Clint's hand.

Don't take too much stock in what he says," Natasha remarked offhandedly as she picked at one of her nails. "He says that 'sincere pleasure' bit all the time."

"Yeah but this time is legit," Clint smirked impishly as he leaned back against the sedan's leather and rested his arms behind his neck. "I'm excited to see if he can live up to all the hype."

Steve literally had no idea what Clint was talking about but he was fairly certain it pertained to what that Coulson guy had promised to explain to him.

"Don't confuse him Clint," Natasha admonished her colleague once she noticed Steve's perplexed look.

"He'll do just fine Nat," Clint waved off casually. "He's got us helping him after all."

Steve wondered if everyone else in the world was as cryptic as these people were. He hoped not.

"Us huh," Natasha quipped. "Then why do I get the feeling I'm going to do all the heavy lifting?"

"Because you're a strong independent woman that don't need no man?"

On second thought maybe Steve's body could use a little more rest. Deciding his new…. 'whatevers' were fine bantering with each other for a while and he got the feeling their destination wouldn't be anywhere close. So he laid back and closed his eyes.

* * *

One long car ride later Steve found himself standing before a modest brick house in a quiet neighborhood in Brooklyn. The maroon and tan bricks of the house were pretty charming, though Steve couldn't find much that separated it from the other buildings that were around.

The potted plants on the banister was a nice touch.

"Go on," Steve looked behind him to see Clint and Natasha standing in front of the sedan. Clint smiled simply while Natasha silently crossed her arms.

"This is our stop," Clint continued. Steve looked over at Natasha who gave him a quick nod, figuring that he came this far already Steve wordlessly trudged up the house hallway with his two companions falling in tow. Above the house's door was a small maple sign.

Miss Lola's House For Scamps.

Steve opened the unlocked dark green door and was transported into a suburban world of mahogany wood floors and humble chandeliers. He stood dumbly at the mouth of the door but moved forward to make room for Natasha and Clint to enter.

Everything looked really nice but Steve still had no snowball of an idea why he was here. He didn't know who these people were, hell he didn't know who he was. And then as if on cue two figures appeared out of the kitchen. One was a beautiful Asian woman just entering the kingdom of middle age while Steve recognized the other as Phil Coulson.

"It's good to see you again Steve," He said as he went to shake the young man's hand. "This is Melinda May."

Melinda greeted him with a small smile but her eyes was like everyone else Steve had encountered so far. Man, what was with that?

"It's nice to meet you," Steve said politely.

Coulson still managed that accommodating expression he gave Steve the other day but it was also more knowing in relation to his situation.

"I'm sure you'd like that explanation now."

Steve surveyed the room a little more. "It'd be nice," He answered with a smile for brevity's sake.

Coulson nodded after he shared a look with Melinda.

"You should settle in for a second first. It's be best if you start getting used to this place."

"And why's that?"

Coulson paused while Melinda rolled her eyes at his need to draw sentences out for drama's sake.

"Because this is going to be your new home."

"Excuse me?"

Here? Steve didn't even know where to start with that. This explanation of his sure seemed to only make things more confusing. Shouldn't this be considered kidnapping? Should he be worried that he actually wasn't more worried about this new development.

Crazy didn't do this circus justice.

Steve looked back at Clint and Natasha who were both smiling at him, though Natasha's was more reserved than Clint's goofy grin.

Still, there was just enough intrigue and spectacle that made Steve want to see how this show ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another one in the books. Did you like it? Did you hate it? Leave a review and let me know. I just wanted to thank everybody for the cool response to the first chapter and I hope you guys enjoy this was just as much.
> 
> Well I'll see you all whenever I update again. Take care and see you later.


	3. White Star Awakens Part 2: To The Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve adjusts with his new roommates at the end of his first day in his new home.

** October 3rd, 2012 Miss Lola's Home For Scamps **

_5:30 p.m._

Steve sat in his new bedroom that Coulson allocated to him and simply stared at the objects that filled the room. A desk, an office chair, and the very bed beneath him.

"You understand that we're not forcing you to stay here right? We just want to help you find out who you really are and this is the most convenient way to accomplish that."

Steve didn't do much more than nod when Coulson had posed that question to him mere hours earlier. At the end of the day the only thing that ended up being "explained" to him was who exactly it was that Coulson, Melinda, Natasha, and Clint worked for. And even that turned out to just be a bunch of letters.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

The fact that a government agency was behind this situation didn't shock Steve in slightest even with his whole lack of memory issue. If he was being honest at the moment he didn't care one way or another since it did nothing to restore said memories.

"I promise you Steve that we are going to use all the resources that are available to help you."

Really the only positive Steve could take away from the night was the discovery of Coulson's phenomenal cooking skills. The man was a regular artist in the kitchen for sure.

"Hey Steve, you got a sec?"

He turned to see Clint standing at his doorway. The brown haired teen's blues that were usually a searing calm now appeared more warm and understanding. Granted, Steve didn't have much to draw on but it seemed to him that Clint was beginning to at least attempt to play an older brother type of role for him.

Buck….

"Yeah, come on in."

Clint smiled as he walked over to Steve's desk chair and claimed the seat. It wasn't a beaming smile that showcased an abundance of teeth, it matched his eyes. Warm but low with something strained behind it.

"Look I know that it is still way too early to ask you this but are you adjusting all right?"

Steve couldn't stop himself from smiling at Clint's flippant but still legitimate concern for him. Sure he was trying to hide it behind levity but somehow Steve could just feel the sincerity in Barton's question.

"Honestly it's kind of impossible to adjust when you don't even know what is you're adjusting from in the first place."

"Kind of like leaving a place you never went too." Clint offered.

"Yeah I guess…"

"Don't worry, it doesn't make sense to me either." Clint joked.

The two boys shared a quick laugh together that had an element of mystery and confusion too it that only a hormonal young adult could appreciate. Clint leaned back in the leather desk chair causing the rear of it to creak loudly for a quick moment.

"Mind if I ask you another question?"

Steve nodded without needing to put much thought into it. He had the feeling the other teen was most likely analyzing him but since he was going about in a polite way he may as well reciprocate the gesture.

"Go ahead."

Clint placed his boots up onto a barren spot of Steve's desk and leaned back further.

"How do you feel, and I mean really feel, about having to live here?"

Steve shrugged his shoulders and looked around the room. "Can't say that I really have an opinion on it yet. I'm not in love with the idea but you all are giving me a place to stay so I can't complain too much."

"Fair enough," Clint took his feet off the desk top and dusted the spot he had used as still off with his hand. "I have to say Steve, I am impressed with how calm and level headed you are about this. If I was in your shoes I'd probably be screaming all the time."

Steve's eyebrows climbed the social ladder of his wrinkling forehead by a couple of rungs. "Thanks, I guess?"

Clint smirked as he got out of Steve's chair, making sure to straighten the piece of furniture back more towards its original state just to be nice.

"Well Steve that's all I wanted to ask you… Well actually now that I think about it there is one more thing." Clint paused as he was about to make his exit.

"And what's that?" Steve asked in puzzlement. Clint looked down at the carpet with his hand grasping his chin as if he was trying to piece together the exact way he wanted to say whatever it was that came next.

"It's just that our curfew isn't until ten and you're here sitting on your bed like it's lights out or something."

Steve kept quiet as he watched him pace around the room. His guest(or was Steve technically his guest?)was clearly going somewhere with this so he didn't want to interrupt him, even if the boy was taking his sweet time getting to the point.

"Nat and I usually go to this cafe called Feige's whenever we have some free time. Now if you wanted to come with I'm sure I could convince her to be on board with it."

Clint looked down at Steve with a smile that was light years more impish and smarmy than his previously warm one.

"So what do you say? You in?"

* * *

Natasha tugged at the sleeves of her worn out grey hoodie, silently cursing Clint's tardiness once the cold mid-evening air hit the exposed skin of her throat. Her partner always found a way to keep her waiting whenever it came time for their scheduled meet up, how he did this when they both lived in the house she could never fully grasp. And tonight was no different as she once again found herself sitting on the front steps of their home.

The only thing that kept her from plotting his soon to be tragic murder was the fact that she was used to environments that were much, much colder than New York in Autumn. Natasha rolled her eyes when she thought back to the text Clint had sent her a little over ten minutes ago.

_"Hope ur ready 4 a surprise. Ik how much you love em"_

She hated surprises. Her line of work was dangerous enough as it was in pure principle, throw in even one tiny detail or event that wasn't in the plan and then her life was in even more risk. Also, how was it a surprise if Clint was telling her about it ahead of time? It was times like these that made her worry she dropped her friend flat on his head a few too many times during sparring.

"Man, how can you not love this weather?"

Natasha didn't even roll her eyes at Clint's attempt to tease her, he didn't deserve it quite frankly. Especially since he said that to her _every time_ it was chilly. The redhead rubbed her sleeved arms one last time before she rose up off the steps. She wouldn't turn around and look at him yet, not until she gets her own say.

"What happened Clint, you get lost again? I know that doorknobs are still a maddening puzzle for you but if you keep trying and don't give up eventually you'll get it down."

When she finally did turn around her body nearly froze up, and it had nothing to do with the breeze this time. Behind a grinning from-ear-to-ear Clint stood Steve, the young man was dressed in a denim jacket from the collection of clothes Melinda had purchased in anticipation of his arrival.

His admittedly impressive shoulders were hunched close together and his hands were tucked away in the pockets of his pants. She looked into his eyes and found concern in them, the fact that he was looking at her led Natasha to believe that she was the cause of this worry.

On a hunch she hypothesized that Clint must have somehow led him to believe, whether intentionally or unintentionally, that she may not approve of or that he needed her approval in the first place to join the two of them tonight. She assumed due to the fact he still stood next Clint that he was planning on joining them.

"I thought we agreed to leave the door knob thing in the past," Clint deadpanned in reference to her earlier insult. "But anyway I thought Steve here could benefit from a night out. Mind if he joins us?"

Not surprisingly Natasha's hunch was right, Clint's smug and teasing tone outright confirmed it. She wanted to shake her head at his juvenile nature but she didn't want Steve, who appeared even more timid after Clint's question to her, to think that she was saying no to his company.

It went a little bit against her nature but she gave Steve a comforting and inviting smile, making sure to basically ignore Clint as long as she could. Hopefully this would make their new roommate feel a little better.

"Of course Steve can come with us."

He was still far from bursting out of his shell, he probably wouldn't be able to do so until he recovered his memory or at the very least learned about his path. But in that moment Steve seemed legitimately grateful and even a little relaxed in response to Natasha's measures.

And to make them both feel even better she was going to ensure that Clint was the one who would pay for their drinks and snacks.

* * *

** October 3rd, 2012 Feige's Cafe **

_5:40 p.m._

"So how do you like the coffee Steve? Pretty good right?"

"Clint, stop trying to sway him. Just because you like that pumpkin flavored crap doesn't mean everyone has to."

"Let the man answer for himself Nat. Unlike you our friend here can appreciate the more unique things in life."

"And how do you know that? You just met him this morning."

"I'm a quick study, I can tell these things."

Steve watched the two go back and forth behind the Styrofoam cup of coffee Clint had bought him. Feige's had turned out to be a quaint little mom and pop's cafe run by a kindly middle aged man named Kevin. The cafe itself was on the smaller side in terms of scale and room but the atmosphere was most likely a huge selling point to potential customers, if not the main selling point. The near orange hue of the lighting warmed those it shined down upon, the music playing in the background was calm and non-specific instrumentals, the seats were comfortable too.

He still felt out of place but he was happy he was there with them and not just sitting in a bedroom he didn't know waiting to just fall asleep. He took another sip of the warm liquid and let it soothe his throat as he gulped it wondered if the version of him he couldn't remember was a coffee person or not.

"See, he loves it."

"It's pretty good, can't compare it to anything though so take that with a grain of salt," Steve admitted as he finished up the last remains of the drink.

"Don't worry, by the time we're done with you you'll have tried every sort of coffee this place has to offer." Clint promised with a charming grin as he punched Steve on the arm lightly.

"May whatever deity you believe in have mercy on your soul," Natasha remarked dryly with a roll of her eyes but she did hold a small smile at the corner of her lips as she took a sip of the roasted coffee she ordered.

"And by mercy she means giving you all the overpriced desserts and caffeinated beverages your poor little heart could handle and more." Clint incorrectly corrected.

"Speaking of overpriced desserts, why don't you hop to it Clint and get me a raspberry scone." Natasha suggested with a provoking glint that manifested in her green irises and in the little bit of teeth shown in her smirk.

"I'm starting to rethink this entire strategy of mine," Clint complained as he clutched his wallet like it was going to fly away if he let it go. "OK, fine fine I'm going," He whined after a pointed glare from Natasha.

"What can I get you Steve?" He asked once he stood up.

"I don't know...something simple."

"Blueberry muffin it is then."

Steve bemusedly watched the young man trudge his way up to the bakery counter with the air of a man defeated. He liked Clint, he was good and easy company. But it was still...fun to observe Natasha cut the fast talking teen down to size with only a few choice words.

"You enjoying yourself?" Steve left Clint to his snack gathering duties and swiveled his head over to the girl sitting across from him that had just asked him a hid the bottom half of her face behind a cup but the look in her eyes told Steve that she was actively interested in what his answer would be.

He leaned back into his chair and gazed out the plate window they were positioned next commotion was starting to die down a bit in their neck of the woods as the number of people walking around were beginning to grow scarce.

"Yeah, I am."

"Well Clint's coffee hasn't killed you get so that's a positive." Natasha ribbed as she moved her cup allowed her smile to show.

"It's really not that bad," Steve defended as he peered down at the remains of his own drink. "I guess I could get used to it."

"Don't let Clint hear you say that," She warned only half seriously. "Besides, that drink is seasonal. It's only around for a short amount of time."

"Oh I see."

Natasha fell quiet for a moment. Steve raised his eyebrow at her but since she was still looking directly at him he figured she was just taking a calculated break to choose her next words so he didn't say anything. He had noticed Coulson and Melinda doing a similar action over dinner.

"You're going to be assessed tomorrow."

Steve leaned forward in his chair and furrowed his brow at his...not date, what's the word he was thinking of...company? No that didn't sound right either.

"Assessed?"

Natasha nodded.

"Assessed on what?" Steve further probed when Natasha didn't continue. A blank expression covered her face so she was probably choosing her words again.

"We need to test your instincts."

"Instincts...could you be a little more specific?"

"We need to see how you react both physically and mentally to certain...situations. Believe it or not it's the first step in trying to uncover your past identity."

"Okay...where is this 'assessment' taking place?"

"At the house." Natasha answered simply.

"Really… I didn't get the impression that the house had the kind of room for something like that."

"Well you haven't seen the basement yet." Natasha smirked as she got up to throw her empty cup.

"If you say so…" Steve acquiesced.

When Natasha returned from the trash can Clint also arrived with a tray in his hands.

"Ok guys here you go. One economically cost effective muffin for Steve, and one grossly expensive and frankly overrated raspberry scone for Natasha."


	4. White Star Awakens Part 3: Brave Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve continues to adjust and makes some startling revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait.

* * *

**October 4th, 2012- Miss Lola's House For Scamps**

_6:45 a.m._

"Morning Steve."

Steve had expected to be the only one awake at this hour, but in retrospect he probably shouldn't have been too surprised to find Natasha sitting at the small kitchen table with a white teacup between her fingers.

"Morning." Steve replies, absentmindedly rubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of the sweater he threw on.

"I only made enough tea for myself but there's stuff in the fridge if you're thirsty." Natasha offered whilst she looked down at the magazine she held in her hands.

He wordlessly ventures across the quaint black and white marble tiles of the floor over to the fridge. Upon opening the appliance he was greeted by a breathtaking amount of Tupperware containers labeled leftovers. Some simply had the name of the dish written over them while others also had specific names written on them.

He rummaged through a few and found one that belonged to Melinda, one for Coulson, and one for Clint. Amusingly the one that apparently belonged to Clint also had an extra message written below the initial label that read; "Natasha this is your last warning to stop eating my food. I know it's you that's doing it!"

When Steve returned that container to its place he noticed out of the corner of his one that was labeled with a name he didn't recognize.

Bruce.

He decided to ignore it for now and settle on having a glass of milk. He grabbed the carton of the liquid and put it on the counter and went looking in the wall cabinets for a short glass.

"So getting up early is a regular occurrence for you?" Steve asked as he filled the glass up to the halfway mark. "Not just something you do when you babysit guys with amnesia?"

She eyed him over the cover of her magazine for a fleeting moment when he was focused on putting the carton of milk away. "Looks like I'm not the only one."

"Looks like it."

Steve smiles as he leans back against the now closed door of the fridge. The fiery red head's magazine had some sort of weird name that meant nothing to him but seemed to hold her interest well enough.

"Sit down… I won't bite."

He was just about to take a sip of his milk when Natasha's smooth voice penetrated his ears and made him stop with his glass right in front of his lips. When he looked over at her she seemed to be challenging him with a raised eyebrow. Seeing no reason to do anything otherwise he sits down in the chair across from her and softly places his glass onto the table.

"What are you reading?" He asks as he finally takes a sip.

Natasha just looks at the magazine like it was the most appalling piece of garbage in all of creation but also makes no noticeable effort to put it down/away.

"Nothing important," She answers as she turns the page. "How's the milk?"

"Wow that bad huh?"

She is so visibly and truthfully surprised by Steve's response that even he is able to recognize her confusion, an occurrence he got the feeling was rarer than rare. It was enough to make him want to laugh but the way her searching eyes burned into him persuaded him to instead clarify.

"This conversation," He tries his best to explain as he grabs his glass. "It must be going really bad if you're asking me how the milk tastes. Either that or I'm just really boring to talk to."

The smile she gives him is true, at the very least it was true enough for him. She elected to finally put the magazine down and away from her person, her green eyes teased him for the lack of a better term in the way that they seemed to always do with him. With always not yet encompassing any more than two days.

"Well you're more fun to talk to than a plank of wood."

"Good because I was so worried I wouldn't pass that test," Steve wryly grinned as he downed the last of his milk. "Although I am worried for you if you have a lot of experience talking to wooden planks."

"A girl needs a hobby," Natasha immediately counters. "Besides, Clint would get lonely if I didn't talk to him."

Steve shakes his head as he holds back a laugh at the comment Natasha made at the expense of their other roommate. Technically according to certain courts of law he was being held against his will, but he wasn't naive enough to deny that he has no knowledge of the world with exception to specific details pertaining to senses of morality and manners of speech. He hoped he was correct in thinking that Natasha and Clint could help fill in the gaps.

"Are you ready for what's going to happen today?" Natasha asked as the first step to turn the conversation to a more mature corner of life.

"That exam you told me about last night?" Steve looked at her face to double check if he was correct or not. She held that same blank teasing expression but she did nod.

"I'm ready enough as I can be for something I know next to nothing about."

"Clint will be the one testing you," Natasha offered seemingly as an olive branch. "We just need to see what you can do."

"And why is that anyway?"

He had been wondering this ever since he was first brought to the house but it felt it would have been rude to bring it up last night.

"Why is it so important to examine me? You told me the night I woke up that everything about my vitals was fine so what are you looking for?"

Natasha didn't have to stop and choose her words judiciously so that led him to believe that whatever she said next was something heavily discussed by his new house buddies.

"We have reason to believe that there is something special about you Steve."

He wanted to laugh but it felt out of character for him to be rude.

"And what exactly does that mean?"

When she silently kept looking at him with her base test of a look he decided to keep moving.

"Well then how do you define special?"

She crossed one leg across the other but never dropped "the" look.

"It doesn't matter how I define it. They know what they're looking for so if it's in you they'll see it."

They both just looked at each other, the only sound heard was the outside city beginning to attempt waking up and the distant sound of feet walking down stair steps. Steve knew that his above average hearing had something to do with the answer to his question.

"Well then let's hope we both find what we're looking for Natasha."

Those footsteps got closer and closer until they were creeping up into the very room.

"Morning kids," A muscle shirt and pajama pants wearing Clint announced as he made a beeline for the fridge.

"Thanks for waking me up before 7 with all your bonding. No really, I despise sleep so your efforts are appreciated."

Steve raised a playful eyebrow at Natasha who hid her smirk behind her cup of tea. Clint rummaged around the fridge with a furrow in his brow that fell down to his mouth in a frown when he found what he was looking for.

An empty Tupperware container with his name on it.

"Natasha, where's my food?!"

* * *

Not too long after Natasha fended off a food deprived Clint with a well timed thrown knife that found its way to the wall next to his head Coulson and Melinda came downstairs to make breakfast. Everyone got a couple eggs made to their liking with a side of either sausage or bacon. A pot of coffee was made black for Clint and Melinda while more tea was steeped for Natasha and Coulson. Not wanting to be a burden Steve helped himself to another glass of milk.

They all sat around the kitchen table as opposed to the larger one in the dining room. Coulson and Melinda informed Steve that he would be going to the closest high school with Natasha and Clint starting at the beginning of next week while Clint bickered with Natasha over the previous night's expensive scone.

Everything seemed pretty mundane, except for the fact that before they all sat down to eat Coulson brought an extra plate of scrambled eggs and sausage upstairs.

Once an acceptable amount of digestive time passed Coulson brought everyone into the living room and directed them towards the fireplace.

"Steve, I think it's time we show you the rest of the house."

He probably should have been shocked that one pull of a lever would turn the fireplace into an elevator that led down to a well stocked facility of a basement, but with a blank slate of a memory he didn't know any better and from what he could tell of himself he has a rather understanding temperament so he just went with it.

The whole thing about him being some sort of Captain is still weird though.

"Sorry if it's a little cluttered," Coulson mumbled apologetically as he motioned towards a pile of broken punching bags and other random equipment strewn across various sections of the floor.

"Natasha got a little carried away during her last exercise."

Steve accidentally knocked a downed detached head of a training dummy with the toe of his boot. He moved his feet to examine it with a frown, when he turned to Natasha with a quizitive and simply raised eyebrow she merely winked at him.

"This facility is equipped with any piece of exercise equipment you would ever want or need," Melinda informed Steve as she walked up behind him.

"It's open 24/7 so it is available for you to use to your discretion."

He stopped to slowly spin his head around the entire circumference of the 'basement'. To be able to have so much room to fit a boxing ring, a bike and treadmill room, weightlifting areas, and even computers they must be leaking into land underneath the adjacent houses.

"And why exactly would I need to use this place besides to maintain my health?"

"If things go like we hope they will you'll get your answer in a manner of minutes." Coulson answered, stepping up next to Melinda.

"And lucky for you Steve, I am the answer prophet."

Steve turned to the boxing ring to see Clint leaning over the top rope with a shit-eating smile decorating his face.

"All you gotta do is step in between these ropes."

Steve looked over at Natasha who was still standing on his level at the other side of the ring behind Clint and was met with her patented blankness that was becoming increasingly familiar. When he looked over at Coulson and Melinda all they did was nod.

It didn't take much brain power to see that the test Natasha warned him about was a sparring match with Clint.

Might as well.

Steve climbed up into the ring, Clint was even kind enough to hold the ropes open for him. Steve's mind suddenly and strangely shifted to autopilot, his brain raced with details about Clint and potential fight scenarios between the two.

He had a size advantage over the older teen but Clint was still the more experienced of the two. Who had the advantage in speed was still unknown so it would be all about power and cunning which left them on equal footing.

"Alright Steve, your goal is to knock me out," Clint raised his fists up and shrugged his head lightly. "In any way that you can."

"That simple huh?"

"It's that simple."

Steve slowly raises his fists up in front of him.

"All right then."

Clint smiles crookedly. "Should be fun."

"Can I ask for a warning about what I'm going to be up against before we get started?" Steve asked with his fists still cautiously raised.

"I wouldn't be too worried," Clint's grin morphed into a wry smirk. "I'm more dangerous from a distance."

"Knock him on his ass Steve." Natasha yelled from outside the ring, her hand lazily gripping the bottom rope. Clint seemed to take it all in stride as he winked at her without missing a beat.

"You heard the lady," Clint cracks his neck with his hands demonstratively before he falls back into a fighting position.

"Show me what you got."

With an absent minded shrug Steve moved on an instinct still rather foreign to him and rushed towards Clint, stepping forward with his left foot and throwing a punch with his right hand. The autopilot display of his muscle memory amazed and confused him but the speed Clint displayed by ducking under Steve's fist and immediately punching Steve's exposed midsection three times became the focus of his attention.

Clint still seemed to be plenty dangerous up close as his blows would have knocked all of the wind right out of him if he was of a different physique. Once Clint was sure he had Steve dazed he hopped back a few steps to create some distance between them.

"You got good form Steve, you'll probably just a little rusty." Clint complimented as he bounced on his feet lightly.

To Steve's amazement the pain subsided almost immediately, in fact he still felt just as fresh as when he first set foot in the ring. When he looked over at Natasha, Melinda, and Coulson they all watched him with a keen eye but their expression were the still the same neutral as always.

"Try it again." Clint said.

Steve moved towards Clint with much more caution than before and bent his knees a little lower to center his vote better. Clint matched him mannerism for mannerism and the two circled each other.

This time Clint hit first throwing two punches that Steve ducked his head away from but it was the blows were never meant to be anything more than distractions as he immediately kicked Steve's side.

Steve tried to strike Clint with a powerful right hook but the other teen dodged it and grabbed the offending arm from the bottom. He yanked Steve's right appendage down and behind his back and this time he felt every inch of the sharp pain as it was enough for him to choke out a gasp.

Clint used the new leverage to bring Steve down to his knees and applied just a little bit more pressure to keep his opponent from relaxing.

"You're starting to get there." Clint breathed.

"And where is it you're exactly trying to get me too?" Steve gritted behind his teeth.

"Your potential."

Steve nearly yelled when Clint lodged his knee into a spot on Steve's back right below his restrained arm.

Although his vision was beginning to get hazy he could still see Natasha watching them, watching him specifically. She looked like she was expecting more, she wasn't bored or apathetic or even disappointed. But there was something in her eyes that made Steve feel like he was missing something.

By now he was probably doing nothing more staring at her face, her admittedly attractive pale neutral face. The combination of her red curls and green eyes seemed to challenge him, the strange thing was that it was beginning to fill him with determination.

They kept saying that this was an evaluation, it was time he gave them something to evaluate.

Steve inhaled a quick deep breath and reach up behind him to grab Clint's chin, once he had it he used all his strength to launch Clint up over his head in order to dislodge him from his back.

Apparently Steve still didn't know the limits to his strength as he threw Clint a little farther than expected as his back slid across the mat to the other side of the ring by Natasha. The noise the friction caused between his back and the mat was almost comical but Clint sprang back to his feet almost instantly.

"That's more like it."

Clint closed the gap between them and flew a flurry of stiff punches that Steve blocked with his forearms which again left his midsection open for a low kick, though this time on impact he had the wherewithal to grab Clint's leg before the teen could detach himself. Realizing he was stuck Clint's eyes bulged comically for a second as he tried to hop on one leg. Eventually he resigned himself to throwing more punches towards Steve but since he wasn't in control of the distance between them all of his hits fell just short.

Seeing an opportunity to finish this exercise Steve yanked Clint's leg towards his body to try send him to ground in a takedown. But with a speed Steve couldn't reconcile Clint brought both his legs around Steve's arms as they fell and flipped the larger boy up off his feet and onto his back in a cross arm bar.

"Okay that's enough." Coulson called from what felt like to Steve somewhere miles away. Clint immediately untangled his limbs from Steve's arm and shoulder and immediately jumped to his feet in order to offer Steve a hand up.

"Good job, most people wouldn't have lasted so long."

Steve exhaled a short breath and stared at Clint's outstretched hand before his blue eyes trailed up to Clint's face which was back to the subdued playful easiness that Steve was used to seeing on him.

"Thanks." Steve mumbled as he accepted the help up to his feet. Honestly he didn't know what to feel. There was a part of him that wanted to be embarrassed about losing but another small voice inside him was telling him to use it as a learning experience. But mostly he was confused, he looked down at his right hand and stared at his fingertips like something incredibly strange was flowing through them.

"Don't beat yourself up too bad," He heard Natasha approach him from behind. "The whole 'try to knock out Clint' thing was just to motivate you, we really just wanted to see what you could do."

Steve turned around to see Natasha standing before him with her hands nested in the pockets of her hoodie, Clint moved to stand next to her and offered Steve an apologetic look.

"Hey Steve, would you mind coming over here?"

The three followed Coulson's voice to an area with a couple of punching bags hanging from the ceiling where he and Melinda were standing at.

"Sure."

Behind Steve, Natasha and Clint shared a look of raised eyebrows before they followed him out of the ring.

"I want you to punch this as hard as you can." Coulson said waving towards one of the punching bags.

Steve eyed it for a second and slowly stepped to the bag Coulson had his hands on. All around him Melinda leaned back against one of the other bags while Clint observed him with his arms crossed. Natasha stood the closest to Steve with her hands still in her pockets.

Steve inhaled slowly and cocked his fist back to his side whilst he squared his feet. Once Coulson stepped to the side Steve launched his first forward and made impact with the punching bag.

Crack.

In seemingly slow motion the punching bag's latches that were connected to the ceiling. Next the bag smushed away from the curve of Steve's knuckles and the impact and inertia finally set in, sending the punching bag flying across the room. Finally the wall stopped the bag's path with the collection of sand and leather was sent to the ground by the foundation of bricks.

Everyone was quiet as they all stared at the fallen bag. Coulson and Melinda turned to each other with something of cross between the air of a scientist duo that just found results that validated and two teachers who saw something the student just couldn't. Clint was the only one to move as he slowly strolled over to the now broken punching bag.

"Whew, thanks for going easy on me man." He whistled.

But Steve could barely hear him because his ears felt like they were ringing in a way they would if a bomb went off nearby. All he could find the will to do was stare at his still prolonged fist.

Natasha was the sole person to actually look at Steve and not the pile of sand beginning to leak out of the punching bag. She sidled up a little closer to him but still left enough room to respect her personal space.

"Whoa." He finally said.

Coulson shared one more silent conversation of looks with Melinda before he turned to Steve.

"Well done Steven, very well done. How about we take this upstairs."

After everyone was back upstairs Melinda brought Steve into the laundry room to put him through a mental evaluation. While that went on Clint and Natasha sat down at the kitchen table to make idle chit chat(though in reality they were spying Coulson's phone conversation going on a few feet away).

"You're out of your mind Nat, Lucky Charms beats Cinnamon Toast Crunch's ass seven days out of the week."

Natasha smirked as she took a sip out of her water bottle.

"Whatever you say Birdnose."

"Hey it's Hawk…"

The teen quickly shut his mouth when Coulson walked into the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk.

"What'd Hill say?" Natasha asked making no effort to hide the fact that she had been eavesdropping.

To Coulson's credit he didn't bat an eyelash as he brought the glass to his mouth and leaned back against the collar. "She said he's gonna drop by in an hour to meet Steve."

"So you think he's it," Clint realized, allowing just a smidgen of boy wonderment peek out of his voice.

"You think he's Captain America."

"We can't know for sure if he doesn't remember," Coulson reminded his agent.

"But I have a good feeling."

Natasha put her water bottle onto the table and folded her well pedicured hands over the flat surface.

"We've spent a long time looking." She said, not really trying to directly respond to anything that had been said.

"A lot of people have." Coulson stared off into the distance, Clint on the other hand turned his gaze up the staircase in the living room.

"Yeah and we've seen some of the more negative results of that search… Hell one of them is living upstairs."

"Easy, Clint."

"Yeah Clint," Natasha teased in her natural cold way. "Besides weren't you the one just fanboying over Steve's muscles a few minutes ago."

Clint narrowed his eyes at his partner. "Hey, I was not swooning. And you're one to talk Romanoff, hell were practically eating him up with your eyes."

"Speaking of eating, have you ever seen that one video on the internet where a group of spiders eat the rotting carcass of a hawk."

"Okay seriously you need to quit it with all the scary ass metaphors."

Although Coulson could have easily defused the argument then without blinking he was still thankful that Melinda and Steve's entrance into the kitchen did the job for him.

"How'd it go?"

Melinda looked over shoulder at Steve, who strikingly resembled a lost puppy at that moment, before she answered Coulson. "He did fine, all this primary mental function seem to be working fine. And while he has no specific memories before the day we found him he does seem to have a basic grasp on certain worldly subjects."

"Like what?" Coulson curiously asked.

Again Melinda looked at Steve although this time it seemed to Coulson like she was egging him on to speak for himself.

The young man visibly gulped under Melinda's gaze. "I know that I'm in New York, and by extension America. I know that The Dodgers are a baseball team, I know what radio is…"

The way Steve's eyes went up and moved side to side made it appear as if he were reading through a list in his mind. "I know what happened in The Bible, I know why went entered World War II…"

"That's good Steve," Coulson gently stopped him as he could see that Steve would probably keep going until someone told him otherwise. The relief that showed up on the boy's face as he exhaled proved his suspicions.

"Hey Natasha, Clint. Why don't you take Steve out for a walk. Get him better acquainted with the neighborhood."

"Sure." Natasha nodded without needing to be told anything else.

"Come on, we'll show you this nice little cafe around the corner." Clint offered as he and Natasha rose up their seats while Steve looked throughout confused with the way his eyebrows scrunched together like a squirrel.

"You mean Feige's?...You showed me that place last night."

"Ah but you haven't seen it during the day. The atmosphere is completely different my friend." Clint said as he wrapped an arm around Steve's wide shoulders and began to lead him out of the kitchen. Natasha shook her head at her best friend's musings as she followed them.

About a minute later once the front door closed shut Melinda turned to Coulson and the look on the woman's face said that she already knew what he questions he still had so he didn't even bother asking, he just waited.

"Like I said he does have a good hold on common knowledge...but it's dated."

"How dated?" Coulson asked as Melinda went stand next him, making them both lean against the counter.

"Not sure. But when I asked him about The Dodgers he said they were a team based out of Brooklyn…not Los Angeles."

"How is that possible? They changed locations over 50 years ago. He's 16 or 17 at most."

Melinda turned to him and put more of her weight onto her fingers resting behind her on the sink. He could hear her start to tap her fingers on the marble, a habit she only ever did when she had to say something she knew Coulson wouldn't like.

"What is it?" He asked, wanting her to spit out.

"There's no documented date of birth for Captain America," She said with a low serious tone. "Neither is there a recorded age or ethnicity. Up until a week ago we had no reason to believe he was even real."

"You had no reason to believe he was real," He corrected her though with no malice or malcontent. "But what are you even suggesting? That Steve is at least 50 years old?"

"I don't know what I'm suggesting. I just know that there's something different about him." Melinda admitted honestly.

Coulson sighed. "And I agree with you on that. But look at him, we even checked his vitals. Everything we found points to him being in his adolescence."

"We've seen a lot of things Phil. We've seen a vampire walk through the daylight and we've seen a man shrink down to the size of a bug. I don't think we're in a position to sweep options off the table."

Knowing better from years of experience than to argue with her for too long he nodded his acquiescence. Besides it wasn't like he outright disagreed with her, it was just a lot to take in.

"Well… One thing that's for sure is that we still have a lot of work to do."

"Agreed."

Coulson crossed his arms and stared up at the old clock hanging on the wall.

"Besides, none of that means anything if he doesn't get Fury's approval."

* * *

Steve walked a couple steps behind Clint and Natasha as they made their way to Feige's. While the two argued about the validity of Clint's assessment that the cafe was a completely different animal during the day Steve stared down at the sidewalk and watched his footsteps.

He had been feeling strange all day between his morning conversation with Natasha, his brief but intense sparring session with Clint, and Melinda's probing mental evaluation. He honestly didn't know how he knew the correct answers to some of the questions, they just sort of popped into his head. And whatever he didn't know was just a gray haze that barely affected him unless they were brought up directly.

Above all else he felt directionless. He wasn't lost but he didn't know where to go, hence why he was staying with the S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Maybe when school started some of those problems would be solved. At the very least he would have something to do, provided Clint and Natasha continued to fill in the blanks so he could properly function in society.

"Oh and by the way you're totally paying for the snacks this time Nat." Clint smugly announced.

Natasha glared up at him with an assured defiance. "And what pray tell gave you that impression?"

"It's only fair since I paid last night."

"I'll pay for Steve and myself sure," Natasha smirked easily. "But you're on you're own Barton."

"Come on…"

Before Clint could complete his whining somebody bumped right into him as they rounded the corner. The scruffy boy that had accidentally rammed right into him looked to be about a year younger than them, his slight frame filled Steve with the strangest sense of deja vu.

"O-oh excuse me." The boy wheezed as he collected himself off the sidewalk. After Clint regained his balance he nearly did a double take once he realized who it was.

"Whoa, Pete where's the fire?"

Peter rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. "Sorry I was kinda…"

He stopped suddenly and looked off somewhere in the distance as if he had sensed something. Before any of them could even comment on it the boy raced off down the street.

"Uh s-sorry about this! I have somewhere I need to be!"

The three watched him zoom out of view with a shared dumbfound look between Steve and Clint while Natasha stuck her bottom lip out slightly in thought.

"Hmm…" She hummed to herself lightly.

"Well that was weird," Clint mused. "Even by his standards."

"Who is that?" Steve asked, tearing his eyes away from where the boy was to turn to his companions.

"That's Peter Parker," Clint answered simply. "He goes to our high school."

"Huh…" Steve turned back to the horizon and was soon lost in his own head. The image of the small boy running away burning something in his unconscious.

_"Steve I'm so sorry to tell you this… But you mother…"_

_"Hey Stevie! Where the hell are you going!"_

_He couldn't stop running, no matter how much his feet felt like they would cave in beneath him._

"...Steve."

Natasha's quiet voice forcefully shook him out of his reverie. When his eyes came back down to Earth they set them on Clint's raised eyebrow and Natasha blank but noticeably tilted gaze.

"You okay bud?" Clint asked.

Steve quickly rubbed his forehead. "Yeah I'm fine."

Neither of them seemed convinced in any way shape or form but they looked as if they were going to let it slide. Although Natasha seemed especially displeased by his dismissal. Her mouth and cheek bones were as neutral as ever but her nose was slightly scrunched up and her eyes had an extra edge to them.

"Well come on let's go, we've wasted enough time." Clint said after Steve noticeably gulped. Natasha looked Steve over one more time before she followed Clint around the corner.

Steve soon took a deep breath and went to do the same, but not before he took one last look behind him.

* * *

**58 Minutes Later**

"Thanks for the bagel Clint, but I still don't see how the atmosphere is that different during the day."

"You'll learn Padawan...you'll learn."

"Padawan?"

Natasha shook her head as Clint took his keys out to unlock the door and offered Steve, who was at risk of becoming eternally confused, a sympathetic look before she glared at the back of Clint's neck.

"He's an amnesiac Clint, he may not get all your references."

"Oh. Sorry Steve." Clint simply amended as he pushed the door open.

"Thanks." Steve said slowly as he followed the two into the house. Natasha walked all the way into the foyer but stopped short once her eyes caught something in the living room.

Clint was already hanging back to close the door behind Steve but stopped as well when he saw his partner basically frozen. "What's up Nat?... We happy?"

"You could say that Jules." Natasha answered though her head was still cocked to the side towards the living room. Clint tapped Steve on the shoulder and silently mouthed him to stay there. He, a little nervously, did what he was told and hanged back to watch Clint approach Natasha. Once the boy reached her and saw what she saw his eyes widened a little for just a fraction of a second.

"Come here Steve." Natasha said aloud, Steve was more than a little alarmed at the way the two had been basically reduced to talking statues.

"What's going on?"

When he finally stepped up next to them he saw what they had been staring at. A tall dark man dressed in a black trench coat that flowed beneath his feet. An eye-patch covered his left eye, though his scars were plenty visible under the small cloth.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Steve," The man walked up to Steve with a small smile on his face and shook the young man's hand as Natasha and Clint silently watched.

"My name is Nick Fury, and I'd like to talk to you about something called The Avengers Initiative."


	5. Different Kinds of Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes a decision while a new hero makes his way onto his radar.

Fury had given Steve the option to sit down in one of living room's comfy lounge chairs. After the director of S.H.I.E.L.D dismissed Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton he walked over to the mantle above the fireplace. His hands found a framed picture of Coulson, Melinda, Natasha, and Clint pretending to be on a family picnic. The four sat close together under a tree in a lush green park.

Nick could feel Steve stare at the back of his head as he picked up the frame to bring it closer. The boy had been wearing this look of guarded intensity ever since Fury first made his presence felt. Nine times out of ten he would have attributed the reaction to either his trench coat or his eyepatch. Or both. But in this case Fury knew that the tight jawline and furrowed eyebrows of Steve was attributed to something else entirely. He took one last look at the portrait of his smiling agents before he placed it back onto the shelf.

"Hope you like the place, Agents Coulson and May spent a lot of time getting it just right." Fury mused as he turned around.

"They did a good job." Steve admitted, his voice held an obvious guardedness that Fury did not miss.

But at that moment he opted to it ignore it and instead swiveled his head survey the converted suburban confines of the room. He stopped to look at the chandelier and the colors of the walls. "I'm sure they'd love to hear that."

He could see the young man's trepidation towards relaxing himself too much, in trusting Fury too quickly. But underneath that youthful doubt was something disciplined, something that couldn't be taught it could only be bred. It was in Steve's upright posture and more importantly in his eyes. Fury didn't have a word suitable to describe it but he only saw it in the best soldiers.

"So…" Fury paused to lower himself into the lounge chair adjacent to Steve. Once he settled into it he leaned forward to rest his hands on his knees.

"...Coulson tells me you're having some issues with your memory. Or rather your lack of one." Fury continued.

"That's right." Steve kept his response quick and simple. Fury could respect the desire to get straight to business.

"He's also spent a great deal of time marveling about your potential."

"That's what everyone here keeps saying." This time Fury couldn't ignore the bite behind Steve's words. It didn't take him by surprise but he was intrigued about finding where the cracks in Steve's proverbial armor could form.

"And what do you think Steve?" Fury quirked his good eyebrow at the boy and waited for any changes in the youth's expression.

Steve cocked his head to the side, briefly staring off into the distance. It was then that Fury noticed a shift in his eyes, a subtle bit of green that leaked into his baby blues. An element of aggression, of frustration. "I think I'm just a guy."

"You know there's a punching bag downstairs that would disagree with you greatly." Fury chuckled humorlessly.

Steve sunk into his seat a little and heaved his chest in a sigh where no air escaped his mouth. "Well I can't explain that. I wish I could, but I can't. So until I can, as far as I'm concerned I'm just a kid."

"Oh I think you're more than that." Fury dropped the smile from his face but Steve still saw mirth in the man's eye, like he knew more than Steve could comprehend.

"Tell me Steve…" He began, moving forward in his chair and inclining his body more in Steve's direction.

"... Have you ever heard of Captain America?"

* * *

Meanwhile not too far away Natasha was busy staring up at the blue sky from her perch on their swinging bench. Everyone sans Steve and Director Fury had migrated towards _Miss Lola's_ modest backyard, specifically the house's short porch.

She was alone on the bench with her hands neatly folded beneath her legs, the childish way her legs moved back and forth in sync with the bench falsely advertised her youth while masking the deadly skill that laid beneath skin level. Clint was the closest in proximity to her as his arms were leaning over the porch's white picket banister.

Melinda stood the farthest from the group up against the back door with one hand resting lazily on her hip. Coulson sat below them on the first step of the staircase leading into the yard. If anybody saw them all they would see was a normal family hanging out in their backyard.

"Can't remember the last time The Big Boss man made a house call." Clint said while he wrung his hands together by the thumbs.

Melinda crossed her arms, her go to move during times of contemplation. "He hasn't done it since we recruited Natasha."

Clint looked back at their handler with an unsure look. "How come he didn't make a house call when you recruited me?"

"Fury doesn't like the circus." Coulson stated as he read something on his phone.

"That's not funny man. You don't see me making fun of your upbringing." Clint exclaimed in indignation.

"He's not joking." Melinda deadpanned.

Clint's outrage quickly turned into a look of slight horror. "Seriously?"

"I'm heading back to the place with Fury after he's done with Steve," Coulson stated, completely ignoring Clint's question. "Anybody want to join us?"

"I should stay here," Melinda answered. "If you're gonna be off at work then somebody's gonna need to keep the house from falling apart."

"I think I should give Fury some space in light of today's new discovery." Clint murmured.

"Good, then you'll help me around the house." Melinda cheekily ordered through a straight face.

"Fine."

Natasha swung slowly with the bench. "I'll go. R and D said they wanted to talk to me about some new gear. Besides, I want to pick up a couple files."

Everyone turned towards Natasha with renewed interest in what started as a rather mundane(by their standards) conversation. "What for?" Coulson asked, pocketing his cell phone.

Natasha casually rubbed her wrists, though being that her co-workers were all intelligence operatives trained in information gathering, they all caught on to her subconscious tick. "I'm going to show Steve a couple of The Initiative files. I think it would be best if he learned about other people like him."

Clint turned around to lean against the banister and face Natasha with a slightly quirked eyebrow. Melinda placed one of her well manicured hands onto her hip, her face a wall of compartmentalized emotions with only a speck of interest manifesting in her eyes as she too looked at Natasha.

Coulson took a more simpler approach of actually and directly addressing Natasha out loud.

"Which files did you have in mind?"

* * *

"Captain America?... I don't even know what that means."

A little bit of amusement shined in Steve's features as he almost smiled at Fury's question. But at the same time he was well tired with all of the cryptic talk everyone seemed to use when around him.

"Captain America, Steve, is one of the greatest symbols of hope this country has ever seen," Fury leaned back further into his chair and interlocked his fingers. "But unfortunately most people in the world know as much as you do about him."

"Which is nothing." Steve stated.

Fury nodded. "You see, the only proof that Captain America ever even existed is this old war bonds poster from the Second World War," By the end of his first statement Fury was motioning with his hands as he spoke.

"So everyone who's heard the name just thinks he's a story made up to boost the morale of the soldiers."

"A fable." Steve asserted.

Fury smiled unironically. "The thing is, to people like Phil Coulson and myself he is very real."

"Do you have any proof that this guy is real? Besides the poster." Steve asked.

"Nothing concrete, but after some digging we did find some interesting things."

"What did you find?"

Fury's smile widened considerable although it was still too restrained to be considered gregarious or joyful.

"We found you."

"I don't…" It was at that moment that a few of pieces started to click together in Steve's head. The way everyone had looked at him since he woke up. The way they called him Captain, the dog tags. The physical and mental exams.

They thought he was this Captain America person.

But he couldn't be, could he? He thought back to his match with Clint and his encounter with the punching bag. Suddenly his better than average hearing and frequent feelings of well restedness at early hours of the morning made sense. Maybe he really…

"You don't mean…"

"Oh I know it's a hell of a lot to take in all at once," Fury said sympathetically. "I'm not here to confuse things even more for you Steve."

"Then why are you here? Because confused is a good word to describe me right now."

"I'm here to offer you a choice," Fury's voice hardened considerably but not to the point of aggression. "To maybe, just maybe, give you the direction you're oh so sorely missing."

"I'm inviting you to become a part of something bigger than you could possibly imagine."

Steve let his head fall back against the cushion of his seat and sighed a shaky breath. "And what if I'm not him. What if I'm not Captain America?"

"I think we all deserve to get the chance to find out."

Fury gazed through his one eye at Steve to the point where the boy was more than a little bit uncomfortable. Not because the act of being stared at unsettled him, no, the expectation behind the look is what truly made him uncomfortable.

"So… What do you say?"

* * *

"You kidding me, Natasha?..."

The girl rolled her eyes at Clint's near outburst at the last file she announced she planned to show Steve. The first three files raised zero red alarms but she also knew that outcome would occur far in advance, the inevitably of one of the files finding its way to Steve was inevitable since he was unknowingly living with the file's subject.

But the last file, much like its namesake, raised all sorts of hell.

"...You want to show him Tony Stark's file? Mister unstable loose cannon himself." Clint made no effort to hide the disgust and contempt on his face.

Coulson lightly rubbed his temples with his middle three fingers. The younger male's rather obnoxious tone was slowly running his patience, though Natasha could tell that he didn't outright disagree.

"Clint's not wrong, Natasha."

"You're the one who rejected his file initially for The Avengers." Melinda reminded her.

"I made it very clear that Iron Man would be a valuable asset." Natasha corrected.

"But that Tony Stark would be the exact opposite." Clint added nearly quoting her.

It took some effort to not stick her tongue out at her partner but it didn't matter since Coulson was speaking again.

"Just tell me Natasha, why Tony? Specifically why for Steve?" The superior agent was visibly trying to understand her reasoning, Natasha couldn't blame him but she still had to stick to her guns.

She leaned over her knees and clapped her hands together quietly a couple times. "Steve needs to learn that not everyone is going to align perfectly with his demeanor. That not everyone is going to be as accommodating as we have been.

"And like him or not, by the way trust me I don't, Tony gets the job done. His methods are incorrigible to say the least, but at the end of the day his heart's usually in the right place, even if it is for a dumbass reason for the most of the time."

Nobody had any verbal gripes with her statement but the looks on their faces were still those of apprehension. Clint's features had softened considerably but certain parts like his nose were still scrunched up at her idea.

"The problem is a mercenary like Marc Spector would still be more reliable than Tony Stark." He stated a tad darkly.

"We need a hero not somebody who will rip his enemy's face off completely." Natasha countered.

"And say what you want about Tony he is a hero."

"Ok," Coulson sighed before Clint could say anything else. "There's no harm in showing him the file. Although as pertaining to the other files, let's wait before we show him Logan's file. I don't think he's quite ready for all of… that yet."

Natasha nodded. Truthfully she was hoping for that to be the first file Steve would receive since he and the mutant shared a commonality when it came to memory loss. But she also knew how hard of sell Tony's file was so she decided not to push it too far this time.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Melinda said simply sincerely. Natasha could sympathize with her position, hell she was dreading bringing Tony aboard. But she knew that for the bigger picture. For their mission.

That this was all necessary.

* * *

As hard as Steve tried he just could not get any coherent words to come out. The most he could get was "I", "You", and "don't". This was all just so absurd, he couldn't be… No, Fury said Captain America's poster was used to inspire soldiers in some war. But Coulson told him that the tests they ran said he was about 17 years old. He was far too young to be…

Fury sighed after he quietly waited for Steve to respond. "Look, you don't have to give me an answer just yet. I know that it's quite the proposition."

"I'm sorry, I just…" Steve bit his lip for only a second before he shook his head, more to himself than to Fury. "I just don't know."

"Take your time Steve," Fury said as he lifted himself out of his chair, Steve looked up and quickly got up as well so as to not be rude.

"Coulson will let me know what you decide." Fury held his hand out for Steve to shake. The boy stared at the out reached appendage for a breath or two before he finally shook it.

"Thank you. I'll… I'll try not to take too long."

"Like I said Steve, take your time." Fury reminded him with a bit of warmth though no one besides the man himself could know whether the action was authentic.

The two moved to the foyer and were soon joined by the others once it was made known that The Director was taking his leave. Everyone grouped around the front door with Fury, Coulson, and Natasha standing closest to the door and Steve, Melinda, and Clint hanging farther back.

"Thank you for welcoming me into your wonderful home once again Melinda." Fury stated.

"Anytime boss." Melinda responded causing Coulson to smile wryly.

Fury nodded at Clint, who looked unnaturally pale under his gaze, and then lastly turned to Steve. "It was nice meeting you Steve. Welcome to the universe."

Steve, more than a little confused by Fury's last statement, gave a short nod in response. Fury and Coulson walked out the door without another word but Natasha stopped to quirk a silent message at Steve with her wonderfully dull green eyes.

Don't worry. Even though he only knew this girl for no more than three days and had no experience with anybody anywhere to draw on he felt he could understand her. But to what she was telling him specifically not to worry about he couldn't quite say. With his problems she could have been referring to a number of things.

He wouldn't get an answer as she closed the door behind her quickly after she looked at Steve. He didn't miss the click that signified the door's locking mechanism but that didn't stop him from staring at the dark word for another minute. The memory of what had been there vividly replayed in his brain.

"Okay Clint, you know where the broom is."

Clint exhaled deeply and dramatically. "Yes, May."

Suddenly Steve felt like he was running in place on top of a pile of quicksand. Directionless, stagnant. His mind was no better than mush as Clint and Melinda's conversation was drowned out by the ghosts of the past hour's events.

"Look I got no problem with pulling my weight around here…"

"Then why are you complaining Clint?"

"Now May… Let's not get testy here…"

He just kept sinking… He had to move. He had to move.

"I'm going out for a little bit if that's all right," Steve announced, still unblinkingly staring at the door. "I need some air."

Melinda and Clint both halted their conversation to cautiously stare at Steve, who had already opened the front door.

"Sure, just don't go too far." She stated as she tried to scan Steve's features. He stopped the closing door with his hand and looked back up at her. A quiet and understated smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Shouldn't be a problem, all I know is this one block."

He clicked the door shut behind him in a manner not too foreign to Natasha's. Once the lock panged Clint crossed his arms a crossed his chest and Melinda frowned in a way that was more introspective than unhappy.

"Want me to tail him?" Clint asked.

Melinda shook his head. "No, I think it's time we see if our guest can fly or not."

He looked to her with an unsure tilt that went from his eyes to his jaw. "And if he's not who we think he is?"

She glances at the teen briefly before she focused back on the door and brought her thumb up to her lip.

"Either way we get an answer."

* * *

In another, wealthier part of town a young man with short black hair and a goatee that was mainly peach fuzz walked into a beautiful mansion. A backpack was haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, the wrist of the hand that gripped the bag was adorned by a watch more expensive than some cars. That along with the suit blazer and designer jeans were offset by the slightly worn Sex Pistols t-shirt.

His home was filled with beautiful, Olympian architecture but it all appeared pink through the boy's rose tinted glasses.

"Welcome home Mister Stark, I trust school was pleasant today." A smooth robotic voice echoed through speakers hidden throughout the the foyer.

"It's high school Jarvis, pleasant isn't normally used in the same dictionary as those two words." He replied as he stepped up the huge curling staircase that lead to the house's second level.

"I'm sorry to hear that sir." The A.I quipped with a surprising degree of dry wit.

"Your tears are appreciated J."

Tony Stark strolled into his room and threw his backpack onto a shiny leather couch that sat in a corner. His bedroom was the size of a New York apartment, the coloring of the room was a soothing dark that was uplifted by low moody lights.

"Do me a favor and tell Happy not to bother me till dinner." Tony mumbled as he locked his door and frantically typed something into one of the three computers sitting on his desk.

"Certainly sir."

Tony clicked on the other two computers after he was satisfied with the first one and quickly typed memorized codes into each of them. Once he was finished all the monitors were broadcasting some stream of information. The computer on the right played a live airing of the local news, the computer on the left was on a blog article titled "Spider themed vigilante thwarts wrestler turned burglar."

The center computer displayed blueprints for a slimming mechanized suit of body armor that Tony was dutifully studying.

"I get any messages while I was at school?" He asked as he squinted at the screen.

"Just one from Miss Danvers."

"How is Carol? I haven't heard from her since she first got settled into the new base."

"She said she met a girl there that apparently knew you."

Tony froze and raised his right eyebrow. "She say her name?"

"She said the young lady told her that you wouldn't remember it even if she spelled it out."

Tony shrugged his bottom lip. "Sounds about right."

"Indeed, sir."

He was about to go back to tinkering with his blueprint when a piece of music used by the news station for developing stories pinged out of the computer on the right. At the top right of the screen were the words 'Breaking News'.

"As of 20 minutes ago the John Kirby Municipal Bank was laid under siege by the Australian born Frederick Myers," A reporter with a rather atrocious hairstyle droned.

"Myers staged the robbery with a high-powered suit of unknown origin. Myers took the occupants of the bank hostage and is currently deadlocked in negotiations with the police."

A picture is shown on screen of Myers' equipment which is a slimming body suit made out of a dark blue flexible fiber. Plates of armor were placed on his breast plate, shoulders, wrists, and boots. His face his covered completely by the cloth of his suit with a boomerang like visor where his eyes were.

Tony leaned back in his chair and crossed his arm just above his stomach. "Son of a bitch."

"I take it you recognize the suit, sir?"

"It's Stark tech," He said quietly, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. "That's the third time in as many months that somebody's caused trouble with my father's weapons."

"Shall I prep the basement for take off?"

"Good idea buddy,"

Tony rubbed his chin as he lost himself in the central screen's blue print that read MK 4 armor.

"I think it's time for me to punch into my shift."

* * *

The police had been doing everything they could to get into the bank and free the hostages but every time they got close enough they would get knocked back by some weird non-lethal blast. With three officers injured the Captain in charge was reluctant to send any more men and women in.

But those people needed to be rescued.

"What do we do sir?"

Captain George Stacy gripped the megaphone at his side with an intensity that made his knuckles whiten. He nearly crunched his teeth as he grinded them together, a stress relieving action of his that his wife absolutely hated.

"I'm five seconds away from walking in there myself and shooting the son of a bitch."

His lieutenant chuckled because he feared what would happen if it didn't but there was no mirth in the act.

"I can sympathize sir, but every time we try to send someone in they get knocked away… You'd be no help if you were unconscious...uh-sir."

"Yeah I know."

Suddenly the lieutenant's hat flew off his head when a sharp gust of wind blew by them as a figure in red and gold armor flew over their heads and landed on the steps of the bank with a clang.

Iron Man stood up straight from his landing and rolled his shoulders. The gears in his legs whirred with every step he took as air was released out of his pistons. He pushed the bank door open but stopped to look over his shoulder and give the cops a nod before he walked in.

"New York just keeps getting weirder by the minute." Captain Stacy nearly groaned as his officers looked on with their mouths' agape.

Inside the bank Myers held his gloved fist out in front of him, the wrist shooter in top of it aimed at an increasingly sweaty bank manager.

"Okay that's far enough, up against the wall. Now."

The portly man didn't need to be told twice, when Myers singled him out and stuck a shooter in his face he nearly passed out. It didn't help that the bank robber told the rest of the tied up hostages that if anybody tried to be a hero he would end the bank manager.

Myers aimed at the large safe that encompassed the entire wall. "You might want to cover your ears, tubby."

The resulting explosion left everyone besides Myers deaf for the briefest and most horrific of moments. Once the smoke died down he stepped through the crater that used to be the wall/safe, inside he was greeted by the bank's entire reserves.

"I'll have to remember to send The Big Man a thank you card for the suit." He mused as he filled the burlap sack in his left hand with enough to money to fill(and overflow) it.

"Shame I can't take you all with me," He said out loud to the remaining bills in the safe. "But beggars can't be choosers."

After he threw one more wad of cash into his sack for prosperity he threw the significantly heavier bag over his shoulder and walked back out through the large hole. To his displeasure the sweaty manager was nowhere to be seen.

"Great, now I need to hurt somebody."

Myers sighed as he turned the corner, the fledgling villain shook his head towards the direction of the ground without paying attention to what was going on in front of him.

"Sorry folks," He raised his voice as he addressed his hostages. "But if you can't follow the rules than you need to accept your punishment."

When he finally brought his helmeted head up he was met with not only his still tied up hostages, but the Invincible Iron Man as well.

And his repulsor was aimed right at Myers.

"Crikey."

"He said it! We can home everyone we got one." Iron Man's distorted voice echoed out of his helmet. Meanwhile inside Myers' he was busy sweating right through his gear.

"Well I guess this is a better test for the new tech."

"I'm glad you brought that up," Iron Man stated as he closed his fist and a small launcher popped up from the top of his wrist. Seconds later waves of sound and electricity cascaded out of the launcher and into Myers' suit.

The bank robber braced himself for a laundry list of pain by raising his arms up to cover his face. But after a minute passed without him feeling anything he dropped his arms and regarded Iron Man with a newfound confidence.

"That all you got, eh! Then why don't I take a stab at it." He said with menace as he cocked his own wrist shooter.

"Take your shot."

Myers initiated the necessary commands to launch a rocket at the hero but all that he got out of it was a short clicking noise. He tried it four more times but all he received was the same infernal click.

Iron Man shifted his weight to his left side in a demonstration of levity and ease. "Hate to break it to you Freddy but Stark Industries sells nothing but junk."

Myers' now useless arm slumped to his side, the bag of money falling to the ground.

"Bloody he…"

Inside the suit Tony Stark smirked as he powered up his boot repulsors and charged at Meyers.

You just couldn't beat the best of the best with inferior equipment.

Captain Stacy dropped the megaphone and reached for his sidearm. "I've had it, I'm sick of sitting around. Let's move in."

"Sir wait!"

"What?" The haggard man exasperatedly asked his lieutenant.

"Look!" Everyone turned to the bank doors when the lieutenant frantically pointed towards them.

Then like a flash flood all the hostages ran out, Captain Stacy wasted no time in directing his officers to help the people decompress from their traumatic experience.

Everyone froze however when Iron Man walked out next with an unconscious Myers over his left shoulder.

Iron Man casually walked up to Captain Stacy and gently placed Myers on the ground. "I figured you guys might want that."

The cops stared at the(in their minds) robot with cautious eyes as he stepped back towards the bank.

"Don't forget to tip your waitress." He called over his shoulder and waved goodbye as he rocketed away into the air.

Captain Stacy, like everyone else, watched the mysterious mech zoom away. He looked down at Myers and shook his head although he smiled just the same.

"Okay enough standing around, let's bring this one back to the station already."

* * *

"Here's your drink sweetie."

Steve smiled up at Beth the waitress and accepted the peach ice tea that she held out for him.

"Oh, the vase on the coffee table is empty, I'll have to remember to fill that after I take table 3's order."

Steve sat back into one of Feige's comfortable leather couch, the cold drink nestled safely in his hands. Apparently Clint and Natasha has a running tab at this particular establishment and the kindly manager Kevin had no issue adding Steve's name to it.

He brought the glass closer to his face and swirled it around a little. The previous night Natasha has ordered a raspberry version of this drink and highly recommended the style to him. Of course at that point with his mind in as much as disarray as it was he would have been satisfied with anything.

The liquid was just about to reach his lips when his above average hearing picked up on a commotion occurring by the counter. He discreetly looked over his shoulder in the general direction of that area and saw a hunched over man in a ratty coat talking to a visibly shaken Kevin.

"You don't have to do this Edward."

"Q-quiet! I need quiet… Just, just hand over the money so I can eat."

"Edward I told you before you can start a tab, you don't have to…"

"Enough! Your words...I can't… Do it before I hurt you."

Steve looked down and saw the man had a knife in his hand. There was no doubt the man...Edward was unstable, and there wasn't any doubt that Kevin's well being was potentially in great danger. Steve surveyed the cafe, there was only a couple other people in there with them besides himself. And there were all wrapped up in their own conversations.

But what was he supposed to do? He wasn't armed, he had no experience with these sort of situations. Unless…

Steve shook those thoughts away. Right now his problems were the priority, the priority was ensuring all the patrons and employees' safety. And unfortunately while this Edward likely needed serious help he would need to face the consequences for endangering everyone.

With a clinical silence that felt foreign yet absurdly natural Steve put down his drink and picked up the small empty vase Beth had yet to fill. He tossed it in his hands a couple times before he stood up off the couch.

"Hey!"

Edward turned towards the direction of the loud voice and yelped in pain when a glass vase was launched at his right hand. The impact of the crash caused Edward to drop his knife and clutch his wrist. Then in a flash Steve appeared before him and punched his face with just enough force to knock him out.

Steve caught his body before it hit the ground and gently guided it to the tiled floor. After checking to make sure there wasn't any unnecessary bodily harm done to Edward he stood up and turned to Kevin with an apologetic look.

"Sorry about the vase."

"Don't worry about it." Kevin quickly replied, a wide-eyed look of gratitude on his face. His jaw wasn't quite dropped but it looked like it was on the precipice of doing so.

Steve nodded and angled his head back down to look at the downed Edward. "Should probably call somebody to make sure he's alright."

"Of course, uh I can I get you anything else?"

Steve looked around as he seemed to ponder the question. Soon enough his striking blue eyes flashed the answer.

"Can I get a to-go cup for my drink?"

* * *

Natasha was sitting on the front porch steps when Steve made his way back home, once he reached her he immediately gave a sheepish glance to the tea in his hand.

"Sorry. If I had known you'd be here right now I would have got you one."

Natasha merely showed him a small smile and ignored his unnecessary apology. "Kevin put you on our tab?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded quietly, out of the corner of his eye he noticed the small stack of vanilla folders sitting on her lap.

"What are those?"

She gathered them up in her hands and then stood up, the added boost from the step making her just about the same height as Steve.

"They're for you," Natasha held them out for Steve to take, he looked up at her for a second before he accepted them and put his drink on the ground so he could better flip through them.

"That's a list of people you may have to deal with if you accept our offer." She said before he even started to read the one on top.

For a fleeting span of time blue eyes stared into fierce green ones. He had never told her one way or another whether or not he would say yes. But then again the look in her irises told him he didn't need to.

"Do you have one of these files?" Steve asked with a confidence from an origin he wasn't too familiar with.

A playfulness emerged in her features as she leaned against the side banister to the left of her. "Yeah, maybe one day I'll let you read it."

"I look forward to it," Steve wasn't sure if he was or wasn't this Captain America figure, but he knew based on what happened in the cafe that he had some sort of natural ability for sticking up for people. And with no identity or memory of his own to speak that seemed as good a start as any.

"Okay let's see who's first."

He perused the first file like an honor student studying for a test. The subject was a reckless, narcissistic showboat that didn't play too well with others. But he was an also a genius with the capacity and compassion to do great good.

And his name was Tony Stark.


	6. Crossing Fields

**October 5th, 2012- Miss Lola's House For Scamps**

"You're taking this all in remarkably well."

"Guess I'm just a really good student."

Ever since he had accepted their offer to enroll in The Avengers Initiative-Coulson, Melinda, Clint, and Natasha had spent virtually all of their time teaching Steve everything they knew that would help him be ready for a high school junior level of education.

The operation turned out not to be too much of an undertaking as the young man displayed a knack for mathematics, writing, and a true natural affinity for the arts, specifically drawing and sketching. History was a bit of a rougher of them wanted to be the one to tell him about the horrors of World War 2 and 9/11 but it had be done. Coulson ended up volunteering for the task and after an hour long conversation the group's concerns were proven correct. Steve had become so heartbroken by the news(to him) that they lost a day of preparation to let him grieve in his bedroom. But once he reemerged he became a walking sponge for historical knowledge.

The only obstacle they couldn't seem to hurdle was science since it wasn't exactly any of the agents' field of expertise. They weren't inept in the subject but Steve would benefit more from a better tutor.

Currently Steve and Natasha were sitting on the living room couch reviewing his soon to be U.S History textbook. It was all stuff Steve knew forwards and backwards by now but Natasha knew from work experience that repetition, while dangerous for a spy, was necessary for a soldier of the caliber of the potential Captain America.

Besides, the whole time he was reciting historical events she had a step by step plan designed to help him with science already formulated in her head.

"What do you say we take a break?" She asked with a measured amount of honey in her voice that just wasn't full scale natural.

Steve smiled and closed the textbook. "Sounds good to me."

Natasha stood up off the couch with a feline limberness in her joints as she stretched her arms up above her head. She smirked down at the still seated Steve who was turned away from her as he was placing his book on the end table next to the couch.

"Come on. I want to show you something."

He curiously followed her up the stairs to the second floor, passing Clint's room. As they walked by he caught a quick glance inside and saw Clint sitting at his desk with his feet up as he read a comic book. Natasha went right past Steve's room and stopped to wait for him by the room right after his.

On that floor alone there were 8 rooms, 3 of which for all he knew were completely empty. That's why he was more than a little surprised when she nodded her head towards one of those empty rooms. Though the look on her face that could only be described as apologetic and apathetic(two synonyms most wouldn't associate with Natasha) surprised him more.

"Look...this is is something we should have shown you right away, I admit that ok?" The confidence never left her eyes or voice but there was something about her words that seemed regretful and worried.

Almost like a normal young woman.

"It's just that you had such a limited understanding of the normal world as it was, we had no way to know how you'd react to something different."

Steve arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms slowly. "Different?"

She nodded. "There's a lot in this world that doesn't make sense Steve, so I'm not going to apologize for keeping secrets."

"This is a very weird conversation Natasha."

The scowl on her face was more than enough for him to take this encounter seriously.

Steve leaned his left side against the wall and moved his arms so he could fold his hands together behind his back. "Well I can't say I like the sound of dishonesty being a regular thing… But given the circumstances and how long I've been here, I can see where you're coming from."

Natasha didn't make any effort to thank him or even smile, he knew she didn't need his sympathy. She damn sure didn't need his blessing. "Just knock on this door when you're ready."

"Why not just open it myself?" He asked playfully.

"Because that would be rude."

Steve scrunched his eyebrows into a near unibrow as he watched the redhead walk away and go back down the stairs. _Rude?_ It would be _rude_ opening the door to an empty room? Well, when he really thought about it that was far from the weirdest thing to happen to him that week. Top three maybe, but it still ranked below meeting the leather trench coat wearing eye-patch man and the whole waking up with amnesia thing.

With an easy sigh that just breathed "screw it" Steve knocked on the door three times. _One...two...three._ He tapped his right foot against the wood floor as he waited, what exactly he was waiting for was well beyond him. When nothing happened he reached down to turn the handle. _Of course nothing happened. It's just a do…_

To Steve's shock the door opened and he was suddenly staring into the face of a boy with scruffy black hair and bronze skin. He was a little shorter than Steve and much scrawnier in dimensions than the dirty blonde gladiator. It took a cough from the bespectacled boy to make Steve realize he had been gaping at him for a bit too long.

"Uhhh..hi."

"Hi," The surprisingly gravelly voiced young man replied dryly. The way he leaned against the side of his door as he waited...wait he was waiting for Steve to say something. Crap this was awkward. He better say something quick.

"You must be Steve."

Whatever Steve was going to say died down in his throat when the boy spoke first. Well, he still ended up looking like a fool but at least the conversation was rolling now. "Yeah…yeah I'm Steve."

The boy smiled and held out his hand towards Steve. "I'm Bruce. Coulson told me about you."

Steve shook Bruce's hand firmly. The boy had a much stronger grip than what was advertised. "He did huh…"

Bruce smirked as he brought his hand back and stuck it in his pocket. "Let me guess, they didn't tell you anything about me."

"I'm learning not to get too surprised about secrets being kept in this house."

"Smart man. Here, why don't you come in."

Steve followed Bruce into the bedroom, it looked much like his own with a few key differences. The mountains of sheets of paper cluttering the desk was chief among them. Bruce sat down on top of his bed and motioned for Steve to take the office chair.

"Sorry about the clutter. I've been working on this particular project for a long time."

Steve held his hand up to signal that it wasn't a problem and lowered himself onto the seat. "Bruce… I remember now. I saw your name on a Tupperware container in the fridge."

Bruce smiled knowingly. "Ah yes, the tuna casserole."

Steve leaned back and crossed his arms. "So, do they have a good reason for keeping you locked in here?"

He couldn't help the aggravated tone. Up until then he had nothing but good things to say about his hosts. Though there was no excuse for holding somebody captive like this. Of course his living situation wasn't all that different.

Bruce caught on to his tone almost immediately and shook his head quickly.

"They didn't lock me in here, I locked myself away."

What a weird series of events.

"And why exactly would you do something like that? Wait let me guess, it's complicated."

"Bingo."

"Great."

Bruce sighed and gripped the bottom of his bedroom. "Look I'll spare you the sob story, let's just say that I'm dangerous and it's for the best of everyone if I spend most of my time here."

"How dangerous could you be?" Steve asked skeptically.

Bruce eyed him over his lowered glasses. "Trust me, you don't want to find out firsthand."

"I get the feeling I'll have to take your word for it," Steve stated sardonically.

"Hopefully you're right."

Steve shook his head and stared at the mostly barren walls. He was appreciative of Natasha for nudging him towards the discovery of Bruce but he didn't know what this was all supposed to accomplish. He felt like a hamster on a wheel.

"Don't worry I won't be spending all my time in here," Bruce said with some levity in his voice. "I'll be going to school with you all on Monday."

Steve looked back at Bruce. "So...you're part of The Avengers Initiative too?"

Bruce took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with the bottom of his shirt. "Yes and no…"

Steve only raised his eyebrow at the boy.

"I know, I know. Don't worry I'm sure all this keeping secrets business will end…" Bruce mused as he put his glasses back on.

"...Eventually."

* * *

**October 8, 2012-Unknown **

_Everything felt black and white...actually it felt more like a time kissed brownish gray. Regardless everything felt different. He felt different, like he actually knew who he was for once. He did feel a tad bumpy though, like he was being transported across a bumpy road. Come to think of it, did kind of look like he was in the back of a truck._

_He was sitting with about six other men all dressed in dusty uniforms. Everyone was either looking down or just plain sleeping. He reached for something in his pocket and pulled out a small silver compass. When he snapped it open a black and white picture of a woman with long wavy hair smiled back at him._

" _You nervous Stevie?"_

_He looked up to see the man sitting across from him looking his way with a teasing but warm smirk. The man looked to only be a year or two older than he was, his face was almost sculpted despite the dirt cluttering it. And his brown hair was neatly combed to the side, just the way all the women like it._

" _No, you?" He finally replied._

" _Course not. Just making sure you're not."_

_He closed the compass and stuck it back in his pocket._

" _Yeah…"_

_The man's smirk fell into something more solemn for just a second. But before anyone could notice it he closed his eyes and smirked as he leaned back and crossed his arms._

" _Way I see it, we'll be back home by Friday and then you'll be 'dancing' till Monday."_

_He chuckled at his friend's attempt to comfort him._

" _Yeah...it'll be a piece of cake."_

* * *

Steve shot up in a cold sweat, panting heavily. His heart pounded as he swiveled his neck around to see where he even was. A desk, a dresser, tan walls. His breathing slowed back to normal as he brought the palm of his hand up to his clammy forehead.

He was in bed, the familiar landmarks and the sheet wrapped around his bare chest confirmed that. He slid his hand down to rub his face and blinked his eyes a couple of times. He must have been dreaming, that's all it was. Just a nightmare.

Or was it a memory?

Honestly he wasn't sure which truth scared him more. Because while he didn't know whether what happened was a fragment of his past or a horrific manifestation of his subconscious, he knew that whatever it was did not end well. Steve turned to look at the alarm clock that now read 6:23 A.M.

School was in a couple hours.

He probably wouldn't get any more sleep if he tried, even if he could he probably wouldn't want to go back and potentially dream that _thing_ again. It was still too early to get up though so he fell back onto his pillow with a loud thump. Besides, staring at the ceiling was a healthy teenage activity.

Or so he was told.

That morning Steve and Natasha were once again the first one's into the kitchen, though this time Steve was the first one there. She made no mention of that fact minus a cursory eyebrow and for the most part she just sipped her tea and read her magazine. Later on Clint, Coulson, Melinda, and surprisingly Bruce all made they're way down there when it came close to time to leave for school.

"Bruce," Melinda called over her shoulder while she fried some eggs. "So nice of you to join us for once."

Bruce bashfully smiled and sat down next to Clint. "I thought it would be good for me to stretch my legs a little."

"So you won't mind walking to school then?" Clint teased with a fork full of food in his mouth. Steve and Natasha both smiled at Bruce in greeting and not too long after that all four of the teens were packed into Clint's truck.

The two S.H.I.E.L.D agents sat up front while the two misplaced boys sat in the middle row.

"So Steve, what class do you have first period?" A now shades wearing Clint asked as he checked for food in his teeth and drove at the same time. Natasha didn't try to hide the disdain in the action of rolling her eyes. She stayed up all night making sure she knew what classes Steve and Bruce had and vice versa to ensure that everyone knew where the "family" was in case of emergency. Clint was supposed to attend that little group meeting as well but no, he was too busy reading Squirrel Girl Issue 54.

"Trigonometry," Steve answered with a confidence that filled Natasha with a mentor like pride that dispelled her annoyance just a little bit.

"Who's your teacher?" Clint followed up in an older brother kind of deep tone.

"Mister Kirby."

"He's good, you know he's actually an art teacher as well?"

"Really?" Steve bobbed his head back slightly.

"Yeah. I'm sure you'll like him."

About twenty minutes later they were pulling into the parking lot of a wide brown brick building.

"Well Steve," Clint started as shifted the gear into park. "Welcome to Midtown high."

Steve got out of the car and gazed at the sea of people his age flocking towards and orbiting around what would now be known from this day forth as _his_ high school. He had no idea what his education experience prior to that was like so he had no preconceived expectations to draw on. It could neither disappoint nor surprise because _this_ was it. The beginning and probably the end. He didn't have long to marvel at his new environment because Natasha- no Natalie, _Natalie._ He had to get used to calling her that-made him nearly jump out of his skin by appearing directly in front of his chest. The redhead stared up at him with a stern but not harsh look in her eyes.

Like a mom sending her kid off to his first day of school.

Deep down he had a pretty strong desire to laugh or at least smile at the shamefully cute sight. But in practice and execution he was too terrified of what consequences of an action such as that would bring.

"Where are you going?" She asked him, though her tone implied that she wasn't questioning him out of confusion but rather that she was testing him.

"Trigonometry," he answered confidentially after a quick gulp.

"Classroom number?" She followed up without missing a beat.

"212."

"Wing?" She asked in reference to positioning in the school's four sections.

"West."

Steve flashed Natasha a lazy smile that he hoped bore as much confidence as what Clint displayed when he performed the action. The smile wavered into something more nervous however when Natasha tilted the area of her forehead right above her eyebrow slightly, her eyes drilling into his brain with the potency of a stern teacher.

"Not bad." Steve let out an easy sigh when Natasha decided to stop torturing him and signal her approval with a knowing smirk. _Looks like I really am a good student._

"Okay kids, time to start the day," Clint sighed cheekily as he grabbed his backpack out of the trunk.

"Try not to get into too much trouble, but if you do remember to just come back to the car and you know the rest," Clint threw Bruce and Steve their backpacks once he had his own fastened around his shoulders. Natasha only carried around a smaller side bag so she had kept all her stuff in the front of the vehicle with her.

Steve balanced his navy blue bag in his hands for a moment, he still wasn't quite adjusted to the _extra weight_ stuffed beneath all his school books and notepads. The S.H.I.E.L.D had only shown him his _gift_ the other night after he emerged from his introductory chat with Bruce. Apparently all four of them had been eagerly anticipating his reaction, well Melinda at least looked like she wasn't too bored with the whole presentation. Honestly he still didn't see the necessity or practicality of the whole thing but Coulson had worked so hard on the design and he was told the material was as sturdy as they come so he was grateful.

Not that he was looking forward to trying to squeeze into it.

"Everybody ready?" Clint asked, surveying his house mate's faces through his shades. His leather jacket and dark jeans cemented the whole "high school senior" look. Steve and Bruce both nodded their answer while Natasha watched them with her left hip jutted out impatiently.

"Alright. Move out." Natasha shook her head and raised her eyes to the skies mild disgusted with Clint's dorky manner. Without a word to either Steve or Bruce she walked off after their older friend, when they both realized that she was expecting them to follow as well they kicked into gear and nearly had to run to catch up.

The young foundation of the Avengers project walked up front steps of Midtown in three sections; Clint and Natasha in front, Bruce in the middle, and an amazed Steve bringing up the rear. For the amnesiac every step felt like he was walking on the moon. Every step felt like a different accomplishment, the school's large entrance provided both a daunting challenge and the portal to a potentially great journey. It was only when a sharp whistle from Natasha yanked him out of a daze did Steve realize he was standing in the middle of those steps frozen with one foot forward. He looked down from the engraved letters of the school's name to see Natasha waiting for him by the front doors.

Wasting no more time he jogged up the rest of the stairs and entered the building with the enchanting redhead who never said a word to him about his little daydream, all she did was regard for what couldn't be more than a few seconds with a mischievous _something_ swimming in her green eyes.

The first thing he noticed was how narrow the hallways were, and just how many students and teachers were stuffed into them. He had never seen so many people in one place before, they were all dressed in their own unique way, though some groups did seem to prefer to have some solidarity when it came to fashion. Steve also felt increasingly like a bull in a china shop the closer he got to the center of the school. He had always known to an extent that he was a fit individual but he never had much to compare it to since Coulson was older and Clint and were Natasha were both impressively sinewy. Bruce was smaller and unassuming but even he carried this presence about that just made him seem _bigger_ than he was. So far the only people Steve could say were his equals in terms of body decal were a few guys wearing green and white jackets which, according to Clint, meant they were athletes. It was actually a wonder it took Steve this long to ponder the benefits of plunging an amnesiac head first into the deep end of high school life. Plus people were beginning to notice and stare at him, particularly those of the female variety.

_I wonder what that's about._

He sneaked a glance at Natasha in front of him with more than a little bit of hope that just knowing that his... _friend_ was there would calm him even if just slightly. Thankfully he found that it did, although seeing her astonished him more than it comforted. She flowed through the throngs of people effortlessly almost like it was dance, a fitting metaphor given the surprisingly personal confession she gave him the day they met. He bet it didn't take any thinking on her part to move past people in her way, or to wave back or nod at somebody who greeted her.

_As good as I think I am I'm still just a student standing in the presence of a master._

He barely noticed the four of them making it to the center lobby of the high school, the only reason he actually did take note of it was the fact that he had to turn left to get to his first class. The others probably realized this as well because they stopped in the middle of the walkway and turned towards him.

"See you at lunch Steve," Clint nodded to him simply, already walking away as he said it. Bruce waved at him quietly while Natasha silently gave him a tiny smile that he was very certain was only meant for him to see. He stood there and watched his only friends in the world at the moment walk deeper into the school, adjusting the right strap of his bag he turned towards the West Wing and went to go up the flight of stairs that lead to his first high school class ever.

* * *

"Let it go Tony."

"You know I don't know what happened but you used to be a lot more fun to talk Rhodey."

Tony Stark's best friend James "Rhodey" Rhodes rolled his eyes as the 'since birth duo' as Tony has dubbed them walked up the flight of stairs leading to their classroom. Over the years he liked to think to himself that he had gotten used to his "bestie's" rather scatter-brained musings. That the young billionaire wasn't as bad as some teachers and faculty would have people believe. It was the conversations like the one happening currently that led him to believe that he was wrong.

"Come on sour patch just answer the question already."

"No, Tony." Rhodey was ninety percent sure he would regret it but he looked over next to him to look at Tony. One look was all it took to regret it. One look. The heir to the Stark dynasty was dressed in dark jeans and a Black Sabbath shirt with an expensive blazer thrown over it. His eyes were covered in the pink shades he seemed to carry with him wherever he went, and worst of all there was a big honking ugly gold chain hanging around his neck that spelled STARK. Ostentatious didn't even begin to describe it.

"Come on just indulge me for once," He whined as he plucked a blueberry out of the ziplock bag sitting in his palm and threw it into his mouth.

"Tony, a day doesn't go by when somebody doesn't indulge you so don't bitch to me about it," Rhodey argued, holding onto the railing as he scaled the steps leading to the second floor of the West Wing.

"Someone's a bit saucy today. You know since I'm such a good friend I'm willing to ignore that last bit," Tony said through a full mouth as he chewed loudly on a couple blueberries.

"Good, I was so worried about," Rhodey rolled his eyes dryly.

"I know,"

"But seriously though…"

"No Tony! I wasn't at Justin Hammer's birthday party," Rhodey nearly shouted.

"You sure?" Tony further questioned innocently. "Cause I heard from a birdie that not only were you there but you were even doing karaoke."

"I wasn't doing karaoke without you Tony," Rhodey grumbled with an eye roll.

"You sure you weren't there singing It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp?"

"No. You must have me confused with another black guy."

"Ouch you're really gonna go there?"

"Oh I'm going there."

Tony stared at him through the slightly lowered lenses of his shades, his bag of berries now tucked away in his pocket for later.

_Now I'm really glad that I didn't take any when he offered them._

"Okay...whatever you say pal," Tony stated with a pat to Rhodey's shoulder. His tone implied that he accepted Rhodey's denial but the smug little grin he _always_ wore stated otherwise.

"Damn right whatever I say…" Rhodey mumbled as they walked to their classroom, not wanting to look a victory in the mouth even though he knew it was hollow.

"And for the record I sang Purple Rain you cretin…" He muttered quietly.

"What was that?" Tony asked as his ears perked up.

"It was nothing Tony. Absolutely nothing."

Steve had opted for a seat in the very back of the classroom around the middle of the room so that he could see the teacher clearly during the day's lesson. With a quick look to the clock he discovered he had about two minutes before class began so he quickly grabbed his notebook and calculator out of his bag and neatly placed them onto his desk. Around him all the other students seemed more interested in checking their phones or talking to the people sitting next to them. Natasha had warned him that this would have been the case.

The room itself was rather homely, the light that leaked over his shoulder through one of the three windows behind him brought a comforting warmth to the small room's four white walls. At the back of the room, which from the student's point of view was the front, was the teacher's desk leaning right next to the large white eraser board. Jack Kirby, a kind looking man of medium height and build with greying hair, stood by a podium with his hands wrung together and a smile on his face.

One minute before the start of class two students walked in and sucked all of the other kids' attention right into their own little vacuum. Most eyes were on them as they sat down in two of the room's leftmost seats. Steve had never seen the more serious of the two before, but he knew exactly who the other was as he had spent the better part of his weekend studying the young man's S.H.I.E.L.D file.

Anthony Edward Stark.

The clock hand ticked three more times, immediately afterwards the beginning of class was christened by 's smooth voice.

"Hello everyone, now before we hop right back into the _wonderful_ world of trigonometry there is an announcement I have to make."

There was a small polite smattering of laughter throughout the class as finished his statement.

"Today we have been graced with a new student, now I'm not going to make him do anything cruel like make him stand up in front of the class but I would like all of you to give a warm welcome to our new friend Steven Rogers."

Steve remained silent but made an effort to put on a small, blank and noncommittal smile as nearly everyone in the room turned to basically stare at him. It wasn't the worse feeling in the world being the center of attention but it certainly far from his favorite.

"We're glad to have you with us Steve. And in honor of your arrival we're going to work on today's lesson in pairs," Mr. Kirby paused to allow the short burst of cheers(some authentic, most sarcastic) from his students. "So everybody partner up with the person sitting next to you. You can begin as soon as you get the worksheet."

Once he concluded his address Mr. Kirby went around the front desk of each row and gave them a stack of papers to hand back behind them. Steve wordlessly accepted his worksheet from the student sitting in front of him a few seconds later, the sound of chairs scraping against the floor filled the room as all the students moved themselves to face their partner and begin. Once he finally looked up from the worksheet Steve found himself partnered with a student around his age with dark cocoa like skin and well defined cheekbones.

"Hey there, I'm Sam Wilson."

"Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you Sam."

"Same here," The two boys reached over their respective desks to shake hands.

"Ready to get this thing started?"


End file.
